the {not so} good girl.

I asked Jesus into my heart when I was little. Little little.

But I didn't really start walking closely with Jesus until junior high. Junior high camp where I asked Jesus to reign in my life. To take control. To flood my life with His voice and His power. Honestly, I think in my naive twelve year old brain, I expected Him to do a complete overhaul of my entire life.

and He did. Just not in the ways I would have thought. I thought and hoped that everything would be better. easier. prettier. softer. whole.

The overhaul came. it still comes. in many forms.

That fight with a parent. The friend that leaves. The selfishness that rears its ugly head. The emotional tidal wave.

But the worst change? The goody-two-shoes attitude I claimed and carried with me. I adopted a presence of arrogance, and thought my Jesus-loving passion could not be matched.

I thought I'd been doing pretty great keeping my act together as the "good girl" for years, but it was nothing compared to the weight I felt once I started following Jesus. Grace wasn't in my vocabulary. If I was a good girl before Jesus, I had to be the best after Jesus. Because if I wasn't, people would get the wrong idea about my God. and I obviously couldn't let that happen. I knew I was being watched. I had to prove that this wasn't just a phase I'd grow out of... I was really being changed. refined. molded.

It's been almost eight years since that junior high camp. The camp where I first spoke with Jesus in a really intimate way. And it's been eight years of sin. of ugly twists and turns. of some really hard sharpening. My yearning for the appearance of perfection only got stronger as I got older, especially as my circles of influence seemed to widen as a teacher, a writer, a friend. I had to keep it all together, letting nothing slip through the cracks.

You know what? That only works for so long. The cracks start to leak.

The past couple of years have been a fight for truth, a release of the need to be perfect. It's been a process of learning how to be comfortable in who God has made me to be. It's been sharing with others the seemingly gigantic, ugly ways I've messed up. The gigantic, ugly ways I still mess up. It's been telling my story, my testimony, no matter how pathetic and awful and downright unattractive I might look in its light.

At this point in my walk with Jesus, I've been tested and tried through the fires of being authentic and vulnerable... of letting people know of my constant sinning... and falling back into grace every.single.time. It's okay not to be okay. and though I wrestle with this, and will probably struggle with this my whole life, I believe and claim that no one's opinion of me matters except One.

I am just a girl. Flawed. Imperfect. I'm trying my best to love Jesus.

I'm holding on to truth that I chose not to believe for so long.

The truth that no matter what I say. No matter what I do. No matter what happens to me...

Grace is there to catch. Love is there to redeem. Hope is there to remind.

I'm loved.

Deeply. Perfectly. Forever.

That's what's changing me.

You are loved,
Lyss

Dangerous Beauty.

I recently finished reading a really odd, really creative, really hard book.

It's called delirium. 

It's about a society that outlaws love. Emotion is considered a disease. In order to fight the disease, the government initiates a program. At the age of 18, men and women undergo a "cure", which equates to brain surgery. 

When the procedure is complete, adults are left void of emotion. void of all feeling. No hope. No despair. No pain. No love. 

love brings death, they believe. 

In order to avoid pain, they take away the good. 

I closed the book, and just sat on it for a while. 

I tried to imagine never feeling pain. Never feeling sick to my stomach, never feeling hurt, never feeling betrayed. Never feeling shame or disappointment or worry. 

and that sounds really, really good. 

but then I tried to imagine never knowing love. Never swelling with pride when the baby crawls for the first time. Never being overwhelmed with thankfulness for my best friend. Never having passionate discussions about deep truths with my second family. 

... and the outcome was obvious. the hard, painful, scary parts of our stories: they're worth it. 

We need hard stories.

After I read this book, I started to weave through my own testimony. started rummaging through my own moments of darkness, the places and people and moments I'd rather forget. and I started to match and mirror each of those with the redeeming, perfect love of my Father. I waded through the years of Jesus capturing my heart, speaking truth and hope into my heart. The themes of my life shout divine authority and protection. 

Slowly, the story began to take shape. The darkness faded. The tears are replaced with a small smile and a breath of relief. 

I love hearing people's stories. I always have. and every single one has included darkness. despair. pain. But it's never the darkness that stays with them. with me. It's the hope- the beauty that rings so loud in the midst of hurt. 

Here's what I believe: We know light because of darkness. Without the messy and uncomfortable, we don't know deep, true beauty. 

We like to shy away from discomfort. But I believe there's much joy and hope and peace to be had in the discomfort. Some stories aren't meant for teddy bears and rainbows and lollipops. Some stories should leave you unsettled. 

I'm humbled and grateful that I serve a God who turns ashes into beauty. He takes the messy and molds it into exactly what He knows is best. He loves us. 

If you are in a dark season, take heart. There are moments of darkness in the most beautiful stories. 

Still don't believe me?

Take a moment to rest in the perfect redemption story :: the gritty and blood stained cross. the sword piercing His flesh. the ripping of the veil. 

Maybe then you'll see that stories are meant to be dangerous. 

It's what makes them beautiful. 

Love to you, 

Lyss

take off the wig.

I watch her shake her long brown wig from side to side as she approaches the table. She is Belle today. She had just opened her new princess outfit from grammy and, despite the fact that we were going to a crowded restaurant, had insisted upon changing quickly and attending the dinner in plastic heels and a tiara. She skips back to the table after the bathroom run, and her wig has shifted and is looking slightly crazytown.  So I motion her over and help her straighten it out.

"Alyssa, are you SURE all my blonde hair is hiding?!"

I nod yes.

"And it doesn't look all funny?"

I nod no.

I smile real big because of the way her words sound with two front teeth missing. I love watching her little tongue trying to find it's place because it isn't used to the big old space being there. It's the best.

"Then I'm going to dance." We were tucked back in the corner with plenty of room to spare, so she did her little jig without hesitation. I watch her eyes catch a glimpse of a table of boys, probably around ten. For the next two minutes, her eyes are on them the.whole.time. Six years old, and already trying to impress the boys :)

I nudge her to come back and sit next to me. I start the usual rant. The "it-isn't-important-to-impress-boys-right-now" talk... and encourage her to enjoy talking with the family and keep eating.

"But, Alyssa, I look so different. I just want them to see."

I make a small humming noise, my waiting noise. My thoughts went something like "God, please drop some perfect wisdom into my mouth before I go and scar her life forever." I finish chewing and swallowing, feeling unequipped.

"Yes, love. You do look different. You look like Belle! But you're YOU. and I think you is even more beautiful."

She isn't listening. She's trying to slurp the spaghetti without getting it on her new dress. It's moderately successful until the meatball falls, which leads to a ten minute conversation about how I advised her not to put on the dress in the first place because there was the possibility of it getting dirty.

ahem.

I mean, seriously. We know what's going to happen here. The wig will get tangled, the dress will be stained, and then there's the attempt to impress middle school boys who don't even know she exists.

How ridiculous.

I mean, I would never do that.

Of course not.

"I really just want to dance a little farther away, Jesus."

Then you may, my Daughter. But my desire is for you to stay near me.

"But I look more beautiful this way, Father."

Oh, I disagree. I love you just the way I created you. It's exquisite to me. Every bit of it. 

I see what the world wants, and I move toward it. I disguise my hair. I disguise my heart, my intention, my desire... and anything that reveals truth or vulnerability.

How many years did I hide in my bedroom, or under the table, trying to morph myself into beauty. Trying to sneak away into the place where I felt worthy. felt like I mattered somehow. Only to find myself with a broken heart and a stained dress.

Daughter, you put that on yourself. Those things are not of me. 

I chose you. Before the beginning of time.

I see the pieces you have so carefully hidden.

She hops in my lap and asks me to help her take off her wig, so she can shake out "the tickles" it's giving her.

I chuckle. Because I know and understand exactly what she's feeling.

I know what it's like to feel bound by something I've created. that's not really me. that's not really God.

But I also know what it's like to be unbound. Free. Walking in who God is calling me to be.

And my prayer tonight is that she will come to know the difference.

That you will come to know the difference.

The wig comes off. She smiles that crooked little smile. No teeth. Just her.

Beautiful.

Just the way she was made to be.

Love,

Lyss

He wins.

I feel like there's about fifty seven and a half different subjects that I would love to write about right now.

Love. Prophecy. Change. Logic. Prayer. Trust.

The list could go on and on. But today I'm not really worried about sentence structure or eloquence.

Friends, I'm going to level with you.

It's been a long few years. There have been situations that seemed nothing less than dire, where I felt like there was seemingly no way out. I've begged for mercy. I've cried. I've been desperate and searching.

Sometimes, I just find myself looking back and marveling at all that God has brought me through. I gasp at the long road, and breathe a sigh of relief.

I have the choice to look at my life and feel engulfed. I have the option to feel nestled snuggly between a rock and a hard place with no wiggle room. There are seasons that seem to form around my soul and engulf me.

But then I hear the voice of God:

"I will fight for you; you just need to be still." Exodus 14:14.

Be still. Be quiet.

I don't know about you, but I'm not often quiet when I struggle.

When the storm clouds rage, it's so natural to fight back. to kick, and fuss, and try to fix it. change it. turn it around.

I am a "fixer" by nature. I love solving a problem.

But sometimes I can't solve it. I can't fix it. I can't change it.

And this frustrates me.

But there is something that's beginning to change.

Me.

It's me.

There are times when I feel so much like a little child. A child being held firm and secure during a full blown tantrum. But I'm beginning to rest. After a while, the fight gets exhausting. It's time to just rest. Rest in the arms of my perfect, loving Father. There's no energy left to fight, kick, or fuss.

I'm learning to rest fully in His sufficiency. His perfection.

“In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans.” Romans 8:26

When my Jesus tells me to be still, He means it. It's for my own good.

When I am still, the Spirit is interceding for me. He is approaching the throne of God on my behalf. It's in the act of complete surrender that peace then invades my soul. Peace about the place. Peace about the situation. Peace about the relationships. Peace about the season.

There are hard seasons. There are hard situations. There are hard people.

But being engulfed forces me to discover the deeply rooted promises of God.

I can choose to be swallowed up by fear. by anxiety. by anger. by doubt. by insecurity.

Or I can choose to believe that God is at work. Even here.

Left to myself, I will always lose the battle.

So, instead, I rest in His promises to me.

... and the battle is won in the name of the Lord.

“Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you.”  Psalm 9:10

Love to you,
Lyss

Ian and Larissa.

I watched a video today.

... and it got me thinking: would I do the same thing in the face of unimaginable circumstances?

Watch the video here. Hear their story. Praise Jesus for His perfect Sovereignty.

Praying for Ian and Larissa tonight.

I want to love like that.


Love to you,
Lyss

Let's walk through the door.

I sure do love road trips.

... and I love the memories and conversations they carry even more than I do the sites and the sounds of a new place.

I know I'm beginning to sound like a seriously broken record, but I have the most beautiful, wonderful friends. They challenge me. They laugh with me. They even have pillow fights with me.

Yep. You're never too old.

I have this seriously incredible friend. That I don't talk about enough.

I'd like to change that.

Because my goodness, is she wise. and compassionate. and discerning.

A few years ago, I was a teacher's aide in a third grade classroom. and I met the most wonderful family that have grown to seriously adore. Their family, their home, has become such a safe, precious place to me. I could spend hours writing about each one of them. They each carry beautiful pieces of God's heart. But tonight, I'd like to praise Jesus for the oldest daughter. my friend. my lovely, undeserved friend.

... who wasn't always held so near and dear to my heart.

As we were driving back from our road trip this weekend, I looked over and asked, "So... did you ever think we'd be friends like this? Did you ever think in a million years we'd be on a road trip together?"

Her answer: "Nope! Never!"

We laughed about that one.

God is funny. I sure love how He works.

I walked into her home not so long ago and didn't.know.her.

Sure, I said hi a few times. I stood in the kitchen and we chatted about math class for a while. I knew her name, how many siblings she had, where she lived, where she went to church, who she was dating.

But, I didn't know her. Not really.

See, I was the babysitter. Just the girl responsible for glasses of milk and bedtime prayers.

In the beginning, at least.

It's easy to lay low. To be quiet. To be safe. To just smile, say hi, and remain unknown.

To keep every interaction from opening the one door you reallllly don't want to step through.

The door that leads to being known. 


I'm sure I am not at all alone when I say I've been hurt. by people.

But I, along with many of you, have also been intricately put together by God through other people. Real people who cared about my broken spirit, and came alongside. They nurtured my heart by allowing me to talk about the hard stuff, ask questions that may not ever have answers, and they loved me in spite of the parts of me that I feared could never be redeemed.

Through learning to trust, I received a gift that Jesus so perfectly wrapped for me in the form of people: being known. 


This really incredible gift? Jesus offers it to us through you. and through me.

I've unwrapped this gift a number of times, and I get to do it with my sweet friend, Becca, too.

I get to watch with her, learn with her, grow with her.

When we left for Portland last week, I prayed fervently that Jesus would meet us where we were. I prayed that He would continue to provide abundant life and ease of heart.

And He did. Tenfold.

I knew and I know that God always has surprises in store. He always has a perfect plan for His girls.

It's just the way He is. It's His way.

Each of us can walk through this doorway of being known.

He is holding your hand.
And he is holding mine.

Bec,
I seriously love that I get to walk through the vulnerable, beautiful door of being known with you. There is something so special about real life. about road trips, and coffee dates, or drives around the same block fifty times with music blaring. It's not just the laughter you can see instead of just read from a text or hear over the phone. It's not just the sparkle. It's not just the hug or the tears or the awful navigating skills.

It's so much more than that.

It's that we were created for this. To mingle our hearts and personalities together with other people, and with Him. To be so full of His love, that all we can do is give it away.

And man oh man, you, friend, are one of my very favorite ways to see Jesus. to hear Jesus. Your dreams and your prayers and your passions make mine more refined. Your love makes mine deeper. Your hunger and desire and hope makes mine more real.

I don't know what you wonder about. I don't know what you wrestle with. in the middle of night, in the quiet moments, in the stressful places.

But I know this:
You are loved.
You can really do this. all those big dreams are placed on your heart for a reason.
You are chosen for a crazy beautiful purpose.

These things are desperately, wonderfully true.

Not because I dreamed it up. Not because you dreamed it up. Or because you think that might be nice. Or that you've earned it somehow.

It's true because the God who spoke the whole.entire.world into existence calls you His own. And He whispered His heart to you through His word. Through His people. Through his heart.

Psalm 103:11. "For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is His love for those who fear Him."

Philippians 4:13. "I can do all things through Him who gives me strength."

Isaiah 43:1. "This is what the Lord says, 'I have called you by name. You are mine.'"

You don't have to just hope. Just wish. Just try. You can in the deepest-parts-of-your-soul know. Trust. Believe. Is it easy? No way. Not in this fallen world.

But I know that God delights in you, sweet friend. He adores you.

He has equipped you with peace, with life, with incredible compassion to further His kingdom.

It is a great honor to be your friend, Becca. Jesus has used you over and over again to draw me closer to His heart.

I have no idea what the next couple of years hold.

But I love knowing that you will be a part of them :)

Love you,
Lyss

Praising God for my friends tonight. for my sisters. for the incredible gift of people. 


Let's cultivate. honor. love.

All to the glory of God.