Driving Desire

Be the driving desire of my life.

I wrote these words about five months ago:

“And so I embarked on a daily mission that has continued to this day: fervently, genuinely, boldly asking for a radically changed heart.

 Asking for freedom.

Asking for passion.

Asking for understanding.

 I am asking God to continue making it real for me. I am asking for a greater understanding of the real Gospel – the one that says It is finished.  The one that frees me from expectations, obligations, and the fear of my own failure. The one that is as radical as it is “real life.” The one that is so big and so life-changing and so extreme that I don’t think I ever should “come down from the high.”

 Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. ~Romans 12:11

 What a commandment.

 I want my continual response to this unbelievable freedom to be endless Hallelujahs.

I don’t want to be “realistic” about how they are multiplied – I want to keep asking for more.”

I can’t say I’ve lived this way every second in the five months since. I’ve had my selfish, insecure, sinful moments. I’ve doubted His promises and been lacking in zeal.

But I can honestly say He hasn’t given up on granting my request. I’ve kept asking, and He responds even when I fight it. I’ve kept asking, and He’s surprised me, delighted me, and held me.

He has never been more real to me than in these past five months. I’ve never learned so much. I’ve never been so in love with Him. I’ve never been so free.

And yet I know there’s more. How glorious to know that I serve a God that never runs out. On this earth, I will never know enough of Him. I’ll never reach the limit of His love for me. I’ll never understand Him completely.

There is always more to ask for, and a constantly merciful, giving Father to answer me.  

It is just so exciting to think that of all the possibilities for the rest of my life, one thing I can be sure of: there will be more and more of God.

No place I would rather be,
No place I would rather be,

Than here in your Love.

Set a fire down in my soul

That I can’t contain and I can’t control

I want more of You, God. I want more of You.

I want more. Pour it out.

How good is it to think that the greatest good on this earth is never-ending? The only thing really worth having, the only thing that will bring any joy or fulfillment, comes from a never-ending supply.

Lord, set a fire down in my soul. Give me zeal and spiritual fervor. Be the driving desire of my life. God, I am going to keep asking. Because I know that you never disappoint. I will keep asking, because you always satisfy. I will keep asking, because I have learned not to doubt Your deliverance. I will keep asking for more and more and more, because I know You are always more than I can imagine or ask for. Lord, teach me how to share this. Give me the tools and the words I don’t have to reach a world so unaware of this never-ending well of your Love. God, I am asking for more of You. So much of You that it flows out of me. So much of You that I make them wonder about me. So much of You that I can’t help but speak, sing, and scream about it. Lord, break my heart for those that don’t know You. Break my heart for those that know of You, but don’t know You. Break my heart for those that aren’t asking for more. Give me a teachable spirit and a humble heart, Lord. Be the driving desire of my life, God.

Even When My Eyes Can’t See

“If I knew that it was definitely going to be okay, I would do it.”

Those are words I thought today.

Walking through a hallway, carrying my lunch, hurrying to get back to the office with enough time to finish my work.

And moments after the thought passed through my silly little brain, my soul grasped the weight of that thought for a moment.

If I knew that it was definitely going to be okay.

Don’t I know that?

Don’t I have peace in knowing that my God is holding my life in his hands?

And now I’m wondering – what would my thoughts look like, what would my dreams look like, what would my expectations for my life look like, if I truly believed that God is in control?

If I really truly believed and lived like I believe that God is sovereign, that He has a plan for my life, and that He is bigger than my mistakes and failures, I don’t think that thought would be entertained for even the second that it was.

I think my life might look pretty different if I was unafraid of being totally obedient to my God.

Sometimes I worry about being overly emotional, reckless, or irresponsible under the guise of ‘following God.’ But if I truly believe that He is working in my heart and in my life, that He is bigger than my mistakes, and that He is totally completely wonderfully sovereign, I should be unashamedly unafraid.

I want to live unafraid. I want to live a life that doesn’t just profess by my words to trust Him and His plan, but actively lives like it’s true.

I don’t want to say that I trust Him with my whole life and my whole heart, and then continue making plans as if He might not come through. If I’m still making back-up plans for the God of the Universe, I have a serious misunderstanding about how He works and who He is.

I don’t know what He’s doing, but I know who He is.

I may not know the specifics, and being scared of something doesn’t mean it’s what He’s calling me to do. But even if I don’t know what He’s working, I can have unbelievable peace because I know who He is. He is real to me. He keeps coming through for me, even when especially when I don’t deserve it.

When I’m struggling to have faith in His plans that I can’t quite see yet, I can have such peace in knowing that He is who He says He is, and He’s shown that to me.

I want to start living like I believe that He is who He says He is. I want to start living completely unafraid of all the things so much smaller than my God. I want to start living like I know that it is definitely going to be okay.

I know who He is, and I have faith in what He is doing.

Far be it from me to not believe

Even when my eyes can’t see

 

And this mountain that’s in front of me

Will be thrown into the midst of the sea

 

So let go my soul and trust in Him

The waves and wind still know His name

 

It is well with my soul.

It is Well with My Soul

What a Great God I serve.

For a woman of words, I have none to describe Him.

Through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You.

Through it all, through it all, it is well.

Through it all, through it all, my eyes are on You.

And it is well, with me.

 

Yesterday I was basking in it. I was engulfed by His presence and in awe of His power. I was shaken to my core by the realization that He was always holding me. All the times I spent thinking this crazy world was just dealing me blows out of chaotic indifference, He was at work. He was holding me even when I didn’t believe Him. I had caught a glimpse of who He is, but I didn’t even trust Him yet. I didn’t believe in His promises, and He was still faithfully holding me and relentlessly pursuing my heart.

Yesterday at school, this beautiful little organization launched called Propel Women.

And I could write forever about how inspired I was by them and their mission, how much their founder Christine Caine can bring the Word in such a powerful way, and how encouraged I was by the words of so many women of God last night.

But what hit me this morning more than anything, was that He was speaking to me.

He is using this beautiful movement to reach thousands of people, but yesterday, in quiet still moments, He was speaking to me.

He knows my heart.

He hears my frustration and insecurity.

He knows the words I need to hear, and He plants those words in the mouths I am listening to. It’s not all about me by any stretch, but this Big Great Sovereign God speaks to me. He was probably doing it all around my campus. I’m nothing special. But He was speaking to me as if I was the only one there. He was touching my heart and giving me just the words to hear. He is so good. I want to jump up out of my seat in my quiet dark office and sing and dance that He is so good.

It makes me soul close to bursting just to think that if I am so delighted by the small ways I see Him working in my life, how much more is He doing work I can’t even see yet?

 

It is well with my soul.

It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Little Criticisms

I heard a beautiful message this morning. It tackled some tough issues, and to some people, was a tad controversial. Some people loved it, and I’m sure some people weren’t so thrilled.

It’s been a couple hours since the message, and I can tell it’s already beginning.

I can hear the conversations all across campus.

I can just feel the keyboards clacking away. (Or maybe that’s just mine…)

Actually, with every comment that edged on controversial this morning, I could hear the whispers beginning.

I could feel the nitpicking.

Don’t get me wrong, I love analytical thinking. I love when people don’t just take information given to them uncritically. It’s important to me that people actively engage with material we’re presented with.

But before the message this morning, I looked around at the people I was sitting with and uttered an internal groan. I was with those type of people, and I was getting a little sick of it.

“Yeah, it was great, but, there was this one thing she said that annoyed me.”

“It was okay, but she used this one word I didn’t like.”

“It was good, but I wish she would have just said…”

Nothing wrong with it, but I’m getting a little tired of the negativity.

I’m sick of little criticisms. I’m sick of getting bogged down in mini debates.

I’m sick of big issue stuff getting sidetracked by little disapprovals.

I would be the first person to say that words matter, that big issue confrontations can get destroyed by little problems, and that critical thinking is crucial.

But when are we leveraging real criticisms and when are we nitpicking?

When are we dissecting important issues and when are we letting theological debates distract us from the Great Commission?

When is it a criticism and when is it negativity?

I have no idea. It’s a fine line.

But I’m trying this new thing where I celebrate my freedom in Him and I look to live a life of Joy. And when I put my little criticisms in the light of that larger purpose, a lot of them suddenly seem…inconsequential.

I’m going to live a life that is dominated by glorifying Him and making Him known, and I need to start figuring out when those little criticisms are working towards that purpose and when they’re working against it.

I’m argumentative by nature, but I’m starting to push back a little bit against my natural tendency to turn everything into a debate. Sometimes I criticize for fun and argue for sport, but I’m starting to see how destructive that can be. I want to love, period. I want to criticize when it’s necessary and debate when it’s important, but I don’t want to prioritize being right over loving people.

Lord, give me a teachable spirit.

I praise you for my analytical mind and my energetic spirit.

I pray that you’ll teach me when to criticize and when to be silent in the name of love.

Make me humble, Lord.

Remind me, when necessary, that I’m not always right, even if it hurts.

Make me receptive to truth, no matter where it’s coming from.

Teach me to love like you love me.

Greatest Lesson

After watching an inspirational chapel about the unused potential of women in the church and the importance of equipping women to lead, I was empowered. But more than anything, I was proud. Everything about this message made me more and more proud of my amazing Momma and more and more grateful for the blessing she is to me. God placed me in the care of this incredible woman after His own heart, who is not content to lead a Women’s Ministry that’s all about tea parties and cliché coffee cup Bible studies. God blessed me with a mother who is also a smart, compassionate leader. He gave me a woman to guide me who is unafraid of breaking tradition for the sake of souls. He gave me a mother who is actively challenging me to live more like Him. He gave me a mother who can fiercely lead a ministry one hour, and snuggle up in bed with her oldest daughter and cry the next. I used to think she was the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth. I am eternally thankful I was given a mother who is so much more than that. She is strong and smart and beautiful. She corrects me when I’m wrong and rejoices with me for the work He is doing in me.  She isn’t perfect (shocker), but I’ve never been so aware of how much she has shaped who I am today. I may disagree with her sometimes, but that’s only because she taught me how. She’s still teaching me. She’s teaching me how to be strong and kind at the same time. She’s teaching me how to lead with assertiveness and grace. She’s teaching me how to be an amazing mother and a wife without subjecting her identity in Christ to those titles. She’s teaching me how to live a life that glorifies Him. And that’s the greatest lesson I could ever spend my life watching someone teach.

Time in the Workshop

This weekend was such a roller-coaster. And such a reminder of the pain that putting my identity in my success inevitably brings. Not only that, but it was a reminder that putting my identity in my success bring pain when I’m winning. This weekend’s debate tournament was excitingly successful one moment, crushingly disappointing the next. And even though I’ve learned this lesson over and over again, the truth of it was even more apparent. One moment, a frustrating defeat made me doubt everything, the next I was convinced I was the greatest debater that had ever lived. The morning after having a minor breakdown, when I thought I had wasted all my time at this activity because I was so horrifically bad at it, I won an award that made that whole breakdown seem silly. What a reminder this weekend was that the more I give success the ability to build me up, the more I give defeat the power to tear me down. When my response to defeat is to remind myself of all the praise I’ve gotten, I’m only hurting myself.

One of my favorite children’s books is Max Lucado’s You are Special. Now, I personally normally auto-roll my eyes at a title like that on a children’s book. I’m special? Let me guess, God made me perfect just the way I am?

But this book is not like that. In this story, a world of little wooden people live their lives around a ranking system that everyone participates in. The little wooden people all have a collection of black dots and gold stars that they can give to other wooden people that they encounter during their daily lives. If someone is attractive or successful, they get a gold star. If they are particularly unappealing in appearance or ability, they get a black dot. As can probably be expected from little wooden people not unlike ourselves, the more gold stars a wooden person gets, the more other people give them gold stars for just having so many gold stars already. The same goes for black dots – some wooden people just start accumulating more and more of them as they become more rejected by their little wooden world. (Already seems pretty familiar territory to me.) One little wooden person feels particularly forgotten and abused by his world. He has so many black dots that his general demeanor is enough to earn him another one by his peers. One day, however, he meets another wooden person unlike any he has ever met. This little wooden girl has no stars. But she also has no dots. She has no stickers at all. The little wooden man is shocked – he can’t decide if she’s wonderful because she has no black dots or horrible because she has no gold stars. The girl explains to him something remarkable – people often try and put stickers on her, but they don’t stick. The little wooden girl explains to him that she spends much of her time at the workshop on the top of the hill, where the craftsman lives. And after spending a lot of time with Him, her stickers started falling off. And eventually none of them stuck at all.

That part gets me, no matter how potentially cheesy the cynical side of me may fear it is.

The stickers don’t stick to her. The story isn’t that she takes them off, that she keeps a stiff upper lip when people put them on her, but that they just don’t stick. And it’s not that the stars stick, but the black dots lose their glue. What a beautiful image to aspire to – I want the black dots and the gold stars alike to just fall right off.

But even better than that lesson is the way she got that way. She didn’t just believe in herself so much that the glue on the stickers faded away. She didn’t tear them off by force and hide them away. She didn’t hold her head high while they stuck to her and ate away at her on the inside. She doesn’t will away the black dots by admiring her gold stars. She spends time with her Creator.

The stickers naturally lost their ability to stick to her when she spent time with the one who made her. When she learned more about who He is, the stickers lost their hold.

I can’t make the pain of the black dots go away by acquiring more and more gold stars. The more I delight at a new gold star, the more the next black dot crushes me. The only thing I can do is spend time with my Creator and by learning who He is, learn who He made me to be. When I know the truth about who my Creator intends me to be, the black dots and gold stars mean nothing. The criticisms and praises of other people can take their rightful place – comments to consider when needed, but never anything that sticks.

My Creator did not intend for his beloved creation to be crudely evaluated by the stickers this world revolves around. He wants much more for me than some flimsy plastic gold star. When I spend time in His workshop, I can see those gold stars and black dots for what they are – meaningless. Black dots and gold stars alike will rust and rot and waste away. But learning who my Creator is and who I am in Him is an eternal gift.

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal; for where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

 

~Matthew 6:19-21

The Greatest Story Ever Told

It’s messy.

Following God’s lead.

Doing the righteous thing.

Making the tough but right decision.

It’s all messy.

Sometimes messy scares me.

I love stories. Neat, beginning-middle-end stories that follow a predictable pattern and have a happy ending.

I often let myself get caught up in believing my life should be that way as well – a neat story of a life. It can have it’s ups and downs, but it should follow a storybook pattern and have a well-ordered moral to the story.

When making decisions that don’t follow that pattern or that mess up the story I think my life should tell, I get nervous. I think it must be wrong because no Rom-Com version of myself would confuse her viewers like that. You don’t have a massive heart-change, start dating a guy, and then realize four months later that even though your heart-change was all God, that other decision was all you. And it was wrong. You don’t quit doing something you love and spend your last year of college giving up on the dream you’ve been chasing for three years. It wouldn’t make for a consistent message, a cute little theme, or a blockbuster-worthy script.
It’s messy, it’s complex, and some parts you get right and other parts you don’t.

The good news is that I’m learning that the pressure to have a neat storyline isn’t mine to bear. The author of History has a plan that only He can see, and his meaning of a good story is certainly better than my boring definition.

Better yet, He’s writing the greatest story ever told. Who am I to think that I can think up a better story than my Creator?

I can find peace in knowing that His sovereignty is bigger than my desire for a movie-trailer-life, rest in knowing that my decisions are guided by the Spirit and the work He is doing in my heart, and true contentment in knowing that His story is bigger than my mistakes and His power greater than any forces.

Choosing Celebration

The first day of classes of this Spring 2015 semester is dreary, rainy, and soggy. It doesn’t have the feel of a bright new beginning full of possibilities. And yet, I know He is at work, and His plan is bigger than big dark clouds.

This semester, I have a new theme: celebration. I serve the God who created the universe and He is working for good in my heart. What could be more deserving of celebration?! During this winter break, I had a lot of heavy things to think about. A lot has been changing in my life, and more change is coming. In the midst of lots of hard things, it wasn’t a very restful break. In spite of that, I heard Him telling me over and over again – delight in Me.

Choosing to be joyful when your circumstances aren’t exactly rosy isn’t just about having a cheerful disposition. It’s not the Pollyanna spirit that says everything will be okay when it just isn’t. It’s the Joy of knowing that even the most not-okay circumstances are nothing compared to our Lord.

It’s a choice that sounds easy when I’m inside writing a blog post and my toes are finally starting to feel the warmth from my White Chocolate Mocha. It’s a lot harder when I’m back outside in a couple hours and the rain soaks through my coat and my umbrella gets swept away in the wind.

Thank the Lord, He is bigger than the rain. Choosing celebration this semester is not going to be easy. Classes are going to pile up, relationships are going to be strained, I’m going to get stressed and forget who I am and Who I serve. But thankfully, He is gracious and merciful and is in pursuit of my heart. Last semester, I learned that He isn’t going to give up. This semester, I pray I’ll learn a little more about what my response to that unfailing Love should look like.

So I’m choosing celebration. I’m choosing to delight in the work that He’s doing, even when it hurts. I’m choosing to sing of His mercies in the middle of a sinful world. I’m choosing Joy.