His feet are dirty.

Several years ago, I was a senior in high school. and I heard a sermon about Scripture. It was beautiful. I'll never forget it. I was reminded that His words are sweeter than honey, and are perfectly wonderful for me to crave. And I did. 

For months I read more than I have ever read before- I stuck to that reading plan for months and months. I remember thinking: "this is it. I've reached the relationship that so many people talk about. I'm reading. I'm reflecting. I'm journaling. Yep. This is it." 

and then, somewhere in there, my world crashed down around me. 

My discontent, my questions, my fear... it all came rushing back and I found myself struggling to keep my head above water. I spent my days using every ounce of energy just clinging to His robe, whispering my cries for help. 

I felt so bad thinking it. I almost felt like a heretic. How can I think His word isn't enough? I mean... It's His word. Hmmm, what has my Bible teacher called it for years? A love letter. Yes, a love letter. How could I possibly brush that aside as though it is not sufficient to fill the void? How was it possible that I was able to gather my deepest breaths and encouragement from a breathtaking sunset or that gorgeous fall breeze enveloping me on my way to the car after school? Could I really be hearing His voice at night, when I lay awake... achy, longing... and listening to the steady beat of my own heart?

The more I learned to embrace the questions, the more I began to sink into them... the more I saw His love for me all throughout my day. A tight hug from a friend. flowers from another. A well-timed text message from my second mom. Packages waiting for me in my mailbox. 

The first Mumford and Sons Album. The entire thing. 

Daisies. 

Clean sheets. 

Soon, if I let them, these little blessings left me breathless with His love for me. 

Then I started to take stock of the way my heart responds to people. to relationships. and I realized that all I really wanted was for people to be real with me. I didn't care if it was messy, or hard, or confusing. Being real and genuine is always, always beautiful. 

Earlier this week, as I sat in a coffee shop with a friend, I began to talk my way through this very same thing again. I found myself echoing those same words I did several years ago. She holds my words so carefully, claiming what is good and throwing out what is unnecessary. When I'm finished talking, she smiles. 

"You know, Lyss, I completely understand. I'm finding that right now, God is just being so faithful to place me around people that I can't scare away. He knows I need people in my life who have been broken and confused, but still love Jesus. Because right now, I don't have any pretending left in me. I can't do anything else but choose to be real." 

um. whoa. 

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: it's so refreshing, so freeing, to know. and be known. I don't have to trip over myself in order to say the right things or know the right verses. I don't have to meticulously hope that my argument can stand on its own, or try to prove that I'm worthy. 

I can just sit in the questions. I can sit in the mess for a while and know that He's here. holding my hand. 

and you know what else? I'm realizing that the Alyssa who spent hours and hours reading the Bible my Bible my senior year is completely different than the Alyssa I am today. I still read the Bible, though not as a check off of my to-do list. I don't have an emotional need to be right all the time. I refuse to be less than who am I called to be. I am slowly watching Jesus transform lies into truth. 

But this is the best part: Instead of falling in love with the words written on paper, I'm weak in the knees because Jesus Himself is pursuing me. and every single day, I fall more and more in love. I'm madly in love with Jesus, whose feet are dirty from running hard and fast after my dusty broken heart. I'm passionately in love with Jesus, whose arms are strong from holding me perfectly afloat when nothing else in the world made sense except His quiet answer to my desperate plea for help. 

Here I am, Alyssa. Oh, how many times He has so gently, patiently whispered this against the shaking of my soul. 

and now, boldness and strength have been spoken over me. grace has been spoken over me. 

... and I'm able to say "I know, Jesus. I love you. Thank you." 

He's here. He's there. 

He's everywhere. 

I promise. 

You are loved,

Lyss