Mightier.

Tomorrow at one o'clock, I'm taking a test that will determine the course of the rest of my life.

I will straight-up admit to you that I am a dramatic person. But this time, I'm being completely serious.

I am incredibly stressed. I am overwhelmed. I am discouraged. I even feel physically sick at some points.

But right now, I'm just thankful to be alive and breathing. I have a family. I have a roof over my head, food in the fridge, and fresh water to drink.

Life is fragile.

Life is so, so fragile.

The past few weeks, my heart has been bombarded with grief and sorrow and worry for so many. I'd like to share just a few of them with you today. I would humbly ask that you be in prayer for these situations.

I have several friends who attend Master's College in Southern California. Yesterday, while at the beach with other incoming freshman, a sand pit collapsed around a 20 year old Korean foreign exchange student, and he passed away. My heart is just broken for his family, his friends, his campus.

I went to a cardiology appointment this morning with a dear friend of mine. I'm pretty sure I was more nervous than she was. She is so filled with grace and peace. My heart is just praying and believing that God has a plan no matter the test results.

For the past seven months I worked for a sweet mom who lost her husband to cancer. Two days ago, it had been 365 days since she and her two young children said goodbye.

My little sister has been in and out of doctor's appointments, trying to get a diagnosis for the pain in her body. So far, the doctor's are at a loss. Wisdom and clarity, come quickly!

Fires. There are so many fires. Homes in danger, air quality incredibly poor, and firefighters apart from their sweet families.

I could go on and on about these, and about a dozen others that just hurt my heart. I wish I could fix it all.

I wish I could miraculously rid the world of disease, pain, confusion, and stress.

And tonight, I'm sitting here completely overwhelmed to the point of tears.

I am asking Him to humble me... asking Him to remind my soul of his perfect hand in my life. I feel as though He's tattooing my soul with the words “He is Mightier."

Psalm 93:4 “Mightier than the thunder of the great waters, mightier than the breakers of the sea- the Lord on high is mighty.”

Mightier. 

When exhaustion and despair are thriving, you see yourself at a dead-end, and you are tempted to give up... remember the Red Sea, and venture forth. He is mightier. (Exodus 13:17-15:21)

When you're battling in the midst of a storm, your heart is a sea of turmoil, and your joy, comfort, and hope have been battered and tossed until raw and fragile, remember the Sea of Galilee, and be still. He is mightier. (Mark 4:35-41)

When life slows to what seem to be stagnant, and you are burdened by the absence of direction or momentum, remember the Psalmist’s stream, and find joy in an opportunity to nurture roots and draw strength. He is mightier. (Psalm 1)

If you find yourself blown completely off course, detoured from your intended destination, and are tempted to quickly correct your route, remember Paul’s storm and dare to entertain the thought that THIS is where you are meant to be, and find purpose. He is mightier. (Acts 27)

When you stumble or wander into drought, thirst, and a parched spirit that drains any traces of life inside, remember God’s promise in Isaiah, and watch for “a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” Remember, too, the water springing from rock, and know, He can bring forth sustenance from desertion. Take heart. He is mightier. (Isaiah 43:19, Exodus 17:1-5)

If you are searching tirelessly to find redemption, listen to those four beautiful words- “Wash and be cleansed!” Read about Naaman and the Jordan river. Rest deeply in the simplicity of solid truth and the way that is better than all the "extras" our muddied minds imagine are necessary in order to obtain forgiveness. He is mightier. (2 Kings 5)

When the doubt, ridicule, and unkindness of others threatens to waylay you, or tempts you to choose an easier way than the calling before you, remember Noah’s flood. and press on. He is mightier. (Genesis 6-9)

When all seems lost, imagine Mary’s tears as she stood crying outside the empty tomb. Remember the words of a Risen Savior: “Woman, why are you crying?” Remember a perfect Jesus who conquered the most unconquerable thing known to man: death. Remember, and live. He is mightier. (John 20)

He is mightier. 

... I choose peace. Jesus, you are welcome here. 

Love, 

Lyss

Anchors, Abba, and Oskar Schell.

"People aren't like numbers. They're more like letters. Those letters want to become like stories, and those stories need to be shared."

If you haven't seen Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, you need to go rent it. Right now. Go.

It's an incredible film. I've decided that I need to sit down with a notebook and watch it again, taking notes as I go. So many great lines filled with wisdom and thought-provoking questions. My kind of movie :)

A week ago today, I sat in little sister's room and watched this movie. and I looked at her and said something along the lines of... "Obviously this is going to make a great blog post."

I sat down several times over the past seven days and tried to write out my thoughts on it. and I couldn't. I got so frustrated.

Then today, I realized that I knew exactly what I had to write.

So often on this blog I speak of things in past tense. of how I used to be. things I am finished with. struggles I have overcome. 

The truth is: I'm much more like Oskar Schell's than I care to admit.

I don't want to be one of those people.

Someone who lives in fear. Someone who can't deal with hard things. Someone who has failed to overcome.

But, as I sit here this morning, I am unable to deny that:

I am afraid.

I think I am going to fail.

I'm discouraged.

I worry that I can't find my place in this world.

... and I'm desperately afraid of people walking away.

I'm afraid you're going to turn your face away and shake your head.

I'm afraid of leaving.

These are the words I find myself acknowledging this morning.

I like to believe that I've never allowed myself to stay here for very long. My whole life, I've been driven. determined. I am a child of light. So why face the darkness? Faith was somehow relegated to creating a safe place. for me. and for those I love.

I've never fully let Jesus speak into those pieces of my heart that are hurt and broken. and maybe it wasn't time for me to fully be in that place. By the grace of God, Jesus faithfully embedded in my soul a growing dependence on Him and empowered me to have deep, great joy in doing lots of radical and beautiful things with Him - and for Him. He's given me a deep passion to serve others, to enjoy people, to extend an open heart of friendship and encouragement.

But now, I'm standing at the doorstep of confusion and fear.

Jesus knows I am strong enough to face the parts of me that He so desperately wants to love back to life. He will never, ever give me more than I can handle.

I think Jesus experienced desperation in His places of honesty.

Jesus cried out in Mark 14:36, "Abba! Father! All things are possible for You; remove this cup from Me..."

This afternoon, I'm thinking lots about Jesus as He faced this.

His cry has been my cry. God, please. Anything but this. Isn't there any other way?

Jesus knew He had to face the toughest journey: being broken, being mocked, being abused. On every level- emotional, physical, and spiritual.

Even though Jesus placed Himself willingly in God's redemptive plan before the beginning of time, Je was still fully human. Philippians 2:5-8 tells us so.

I imagine Jesus falling to the ground, struggling to breathe, choking waves of tears, his body shaking, his chest hurting from the intensity. and here I sit, asking, "How did you do it, Jesus?"

Jesus answers that question for me. I love answers. It can be found in Matthew 26:39, Mark 14:26, and Luke 22:42.

I hear His voice, thick with love and total abandonment before His Father in the garden of Gethsemane:

"... yet not my will, but Yours be done." 

You can accept this, Alyssa

because I know how it feels when God's plan leads the world to see you as wounded. 

I will give you courage to accept this. You don't have to be strong. 

I will be strong for you. 

Jesus points me to the scene of his betrayal, when Peter tried to stop Jesus from walking down the path of weakness. John 18:11

"Put the sword into the sheath; the cup which the Father has given Me, shall I not drink it?"

You can swallow this cup, Alyssa, 

because I drank from it myself. You don't have to fight it. 

It's time to drink it. 

I will love you and hold you through it. 

From sun up to sun down, Jesus walks with me. When I can't make a place for myself in this world, I hear Him gently whispering to me:

Come to Me. 

Collapse here. 

You are always welcome here. 

I am Love. 

Lean into me. 

This way. 

Forever. 

This morning, I find myself surrendering in a new way. I'm surrendering to accept that where God is leading me- especially into the hard places- is a surrender to trusting God as Abba, by yielding to His will and goodness. 

I don't have to be ashamed. 

No matter what is hurt or broken- whether it's your childhood, your career, your marriage, your health, your finances, your friendships, your ministry, your dreams- the place you are in is NEVER out of His reach. 

If I could look into your eyes, I would tell you that Jesus is here. He's always here. And He's not going away. 

Jesus gathers us into His arms to a place where we can find true safety. Safety to experience the trauma. Safety to be genuine. Safety to be honest. Safety to be loved. 

I'm smiling through my tears :) We're alike, you and me. 

I'm stepping into a place of vulnerability. Exposing the hurt, so Jesus can heal. 

This is where Jesus is shining through. He comes with new strength and new hope. 

I am one of those people. 

I am deeply, perfectly loved and safe in the arms of my Father. 

And so are you. 

You and I, we have a story to tell. It needs to be heard. 

Sometimes, I don't know where I belong. But today, I know where I belong. 

It's with Him. 

He's prepared a place for us- the most beautiful place. 

It's Jesus in us. 

"This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil of our hearts, where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us." Hebrews 6:19-20

Jesus has entered my heart. This is where my faith rests. This is the hope that anchors me to God. 

He is my place in this world. 

... now go rent that movie. You won't regret it. 

Hugs and love, 

Alyssa 

Washed.

I'm sitting here in tears just thinking about writing this post.

I love baptisms. I LOVE them.

It could be my best friend or a complete stranger... I love them. and I cry every time. every single time.

It's really beautiful, this declaration of hope and new life in Jesus. It's almost magical.

She submerges into the water. Sin is washed away. She rises. She is free.

Grace. It has cleansed her.

Grinning, she is unable to hold back. Her nerves and her heart race.

We stand alongside. Witnessing. Celebrating. Praising.

She proclaims it, the Truth that Jesus- He has saved her.

We stand in the water with eyes focused, burning with hope. Mouths open, minds racing, prayers being muttered.

Here? This lake? Now?

Is this actually okay?

It's all over in less than five minutes. The whole thing unfolds in less that five minutes. Five minutes?

Scripture is spoken. Prayers are released. Then comes the washing.

It was all just so quick. Can it really be over?

The plummeting: dying with Christ to her old self and her old ways.
The surfacing: rising with Christ to become a new creation. His new creation.

How can it be so simple?

Grace.

It's grace.

He offers this gift to all of us.

He saved her. He saved me.

She is freed from lies.

Humility is so breathtaking.

Here and now, she stands tall. He has pursued her. He has wooed her. and He has won her.

The Victory. and now the Freedom.

The decision has been made. She steps up.

It's her time. Her moment. Declared. Sealed.

The washing. A public proclamation of her salvation.

Him.
Her.
Water.
All that is needed.

She is washed.

She stands clean. Heaven rejoices. We rejoice.

A beautiful sliver of time now marked for eternity.

Thankful for baptism. Thankful for new life. Thankful for hope. 

Love, 
Lyss

Then Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.  Therefore, go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you.  And surely I will be with you always, to the very end of the age.”
Matthew 28: 18-20

nail polish and zombies.

I walked through the door.

I was in sweats and a sweatshirt.

It was at least a hundred degrees outside.

What can I say? Conditioned air makes me really, really cold :)

We jumped into conversation almost immediately, catching up on what seemed to be eons of time spent apart. Really, it had only been a couple of days.

The nail polish stash found it's way to the table, and we began to trim, file, and paint as words ebbed and flowed.

I'm not sure that I could name a topic we didn't cover. There even might have been a moment where the words "speaking of zombies..." left my mouth, and I proceeded to discuss some guy eating another's guy's face in Florida earlier this summer.

This is just one of many things I love about my sweet friends, though: nothing is off limits. nothing is deemed untouchable.

you know what? this does my heart good.

regardless of what this little blog may lead you to believe, there is so much of life that is not shared in this space. as it should be. the tear streaked pages of my journal can speak to this fact. perhaps that's why I find myself understanding Jeremiah. He is called the weeping prophet, after all. Sometimes, I echo his cries. The world carries wounds and stress and fighting... and it gets overwhelming.

but my friends? my beautiful friends? they hold my thoughts and my emotion so gingerly. with such grace. They have taken my story and chosen to link arms with me, walking with me through deep trenches and shark-filled waters. They breathe courage over me. They speak bravery into my bones. The texts and conversations and facebook messages all filled to the brim with the hope of Jesus and His life-giving words to me... they remind me how needed community is. They remind me just how beautiful vulnerability is, even when it's painful.

So tonight, I'm thankful for girl's nights. I'm thankful for nail polish and avocado and listening to the fears and dreams and wonderings of my sweet friends. I'm thankful that nothing is off limits: even zombies :)

But most of all, I'm thankful that God didn't create us to journey alone. This flesh and blood can move and breathe and come alongside. My heart can hurt, rejoice, grieve, celebrate, and learn with others.

What a privilege.

Tell your friends you love them. It never gets old.

Love to you,
Lyss