"Do the next thing." ~Elisabeth Elliott

My phone rang today. For the second time this month, I heard the voice of a social worker say, “I wish I had good news, but I don’t. I have some pretty bad news.”

I laid on my bed while tiny hands knocked and called for me. All I could think was: I want to be done. I am weary. I am weary of advocating my heart out and it not yielding the results I felt we needed. I am weary of those who do not know me and do not know my children choosing power and policy over common sense and compassion, making life-changing decisions for us and then stepping back, leaving us to pick up the handfuls of shattered pieces that may never be fully mended. I am weary—broken really—as I watch the children in and out my home—children who are priceless masterpieces of humanity—become numbers to be added or subtracted and boxes to be checked. A large piece of me wants to run. I want to hide from the weight of what God has called me to. I want to step into the safety of predictably and naivety. I want to turn my back to the inhumanity of some of the policies that are in place and give myself permission to throw my hands up and declare there is nothing that can be done. 

Fast forward a couple hours: My husband and I were silently sitting on the living room floor. We both felt the weight of a rough week and the brokenness of the world on our shoulders as we went through the motions of giving meds, feeding our tubies, and changing diapers. In the room with us was one freshly bathed sweetie, dressed in her very favorite cupcake nightgown. She was wearing construction goggles (upside down) hammering the walls proudly declaring she was a worker girl. Through a nearby doorway, another darling spun circles in the kitchen, her nightgown billowing as she stared her favorite stuffed dinosaur in the eyes and giggled hysterically. In almost the same moment, Silas and I caught each other’s eyes soaking in the girls and said, “It’s so simple, isn’t it?” 

These girls have not been spared from the world’s brokenness. Not in the least. Trauma has certainly left marks on them in so many ways. But at the same time, they break away from that burden, picking up nothing but the simplicity of being a child and doing the next thing before them. They know the world isn’t safe, and yet they carry on in precious love, joy, and trust. When they meet a crisis, they lean into it. They cry, they regress, they ache because it is so wrong and it hurt. But they rise again. When joy comes, they are all in, claiming the peace and delight that is theirs. So much of the time, it isn’t a clear-cut line, but a clumsy and beautiful dance within brokenness and beauty. 

It really is so simple. God isn’t asking me (or YOU) to fix the world, the system, or even one child. He doesn’t even ask us to fix ourselves. He simply asks us to do the next thing. Today, I will be sad for the brokenness around me. It is where I am. But come tomorrow, I will do the next thing. I will seek God’s guidance and step big when he tells me to go and rest when he tells me to be still. I will roar when He leads me into battle and I will sit on the sidelines when He asks me to trust what I can’t see. How thankful I am to trust in such a mighty, wise, loving God. How thankful I am I can trust Him to be all those things and more while He calls me to a simplicity that changes the world. He is so good. 

I know the chaos and heartache of foster care can seem like too much to take on. I know it must be so easy to say, “I could never do that!” and carry on. But please do not let the brokenness of the world and the system drive you away. Do not fear the pain and the loss. Instead, be afraid of sitting still and not doing the next thing God has called you to. You don’t have to be enough. You don’t have to be fearless or free from pain or flaw. Just simply ask…seek His will and do the next thing, whether that be in foster care of a different area completely. 

The War Within

We live in a world where happiness tends to be the goal we naturally strive and long for. A parent’s life-long wish for their child is almost always: “I just want you to be happy.” The problem is, this world we live in is deeply and terribly broken. Even with as much happiness as floods my small world, I find that the brokenness never fails to leak into my happiness--not distracting from the beauty of what I am experiencing, but adding an opposing tsumani of feeling and passion. I snuggle my daughter and as my heart overflows, it also weeps for the mother who walked out of the hospital without her little girl. I delight in the healing of my foster daughter, but I ache for the children we saw who will never know that miracle. I lean into a season of slower paces and less new foster care placements, but my heart screams for the children who have no home. I take in the warmth of my bed and a piece of me cries out for the refugees sleeping on the ground alone, far from the home they’ve never known. I thank God for a new friend and hurt for the friendless. I delight in the truth of my salvation and purpose and yet cry thousands of tears for those who will never know hope. I can’t escape it. I’ve always been this way, from the time I remember having conscious thoughts. I am filled with joy, but I am so brokenhearted. Year after year has gone by and I have waited for the time when I am only filled with joy…when all I know is hope…when I can shake this endless nagging in my soul that screams, “It’s not fair!” I’ve been labeled over the years as discontent, overly emotionally, or in need of treatment for depression. For so long, I viewed this war within as my greatest flaw. Recently, I have begun to see my inability to disconnect from the world’s pain as my greatest gift—as ALL of our greatest gifts. While it is probably far more comfortable to seek only contentment and happiness, not only is it unrealistic (we will all experience heartache) but it cripples our passion and drive to be the difference—to be love, to be compassion, to be change, to be like Jesus. What a different world we would live in if we could feel what our neighbor feels and DO something about it.

So today, I will snuggle my babies, hold them tight, laugh, and cherish them. I will also cry and ache so deep for the family who lost their three-year-old last night. I will be thankful for our yummy meals and I will also teach my children that not all people are lucky enough to have the food they do. I will rest in my husband’s arms, soaking up the safety and I will hurt for every person who has had every ounce of their safety and trust shredded. I will be thankful for routine and I will pray for God to mix that routine up by allowing us to bring another child into our home and opening doors for us to advocate and raise up more foster parents. I will sleep in a warm bed and research ways to support refugees. I will exercise and play on the floor with my children and feel sorrow for those whose bodies are too broken to rise from bed. I won’t try to make sense of it because I know that I can’t. It’s ok to acknowledge that it really is unfair. Most of all, I will keep learning to cling to Jesus and trust Him in this incomprehensibly beautiful joy and crushing, overwhelming heartache. He, more than any, knows the war within.

-Micah

Purposeful Pain

Today, I went to the health food store for the first time after being diagnosed with Celiac Disease. As I scanned shelves aisle after aisle searching for gluten free snacks that wouldn't leave us broke, I felt an unexpected flood of tears well up inside of me. I plopped a few items in my cart and hurried through check-out as Eli screamed. I couldn't make eye contact with the cashier, as I knew some dam within me was about to splinter. I barely had the car loaded and my seat belt buckled when it came....a full-out shoulder-shaking, face contorting, breath robbing boo-hoo. I cried as I backed out. I cried as the man in the pick-up truck glanced uncomfortably at me at the stop light. I cried as the motorcyclist gawked in his rear view mirror through the construction zone. I sobbed in the front while Eli wailed in the back. I didn't stop until I was safely parked in our garage. I sat in my own silence, listening to Eli's sleepy breathing behind me and wondering where such a breakdown had come from. As I questioned my own heart, I not only discovered the recent frustration of this new diagnosis and lifestyle, but an enormous heap of hurt mistakenly labeled as "This Doesn't Matter Because Other People Have it Worse."Events from the last year and beyond swirled to the surface of my mind. Just as swiftly, I generated an excuse for each one of why it shouldn't bother me because it could be so much worse. I'm quick to become angry with myself when I feel worn by life's circumstances, believing it makes me selfish. But today, I felt a whisper asking me to look again...to look beneath the excuses...to acknowledge the hard and the hurt. So one by one, I did. I even said them out loud: It's hard that my brother died. Oh, how I miss him! It was hard to be depressed and suicidal for months last year and to be fearful of it returning. It was hard to not know where we would live. It was hard to move to a house I didn't see the potential in. It was hard to become parents before we thought we were "ready." It's hard to have my son's surgery looming. It's hard to feel called to so much, yet feel as if I am doing so little. It's hard to have a disease that makes me feel so sick. It's hard to have that disease so far along that my body isn't absorbing nutrients. It's hard that I am fighting with everything I have to make enough milk to feed my son. It's hard to learn to be married to someone. It's hard to feel so alone and isolated in a new city. It's hard to be entering the unknowns of foster care. It's hard to have felt so far from God. It's hard to watch my nation and world crumble. It's hard to be out of control of Grant and Reed's care. It was so hard to teach. It's hard to not know why I got a teaching degree. It's hard to have our income cut more than in half. It's hard to learn to be home everyday. It's hard to try to get involved in a new church. At 23 years old, it's still crazy hard to be a child of divorce. If I'm honest, there's a lot of hard and a lot of hurt. I'm realizing that Satan would love for me to believe that there's not...that I'm ok...that it's selfish to hurt. You see, one of Satan's greatest lies in my life is that my pain, my brokenness, my circumstances...they don't matter because there are so many others whose trials are much greater and deeper. While this is valid fact and always will be, it can also become a devastating roadblock between us and the healing God wants to bring. If Satan can convince us that our hurt shouldn't exist, he can keep us from experiencing the embrace and comfort of the Healer. Although we may not be struggling in the same way or capacity that others are, our pain is real, whether it's total persecution or a friendship falling apart. God knows our story, our pain, our circumstances. He is not wringing His hands, wishing he would've given us a life where we could know REAL suffering. He doesn't ask us to always compare our story to those of others....instead, He asks us to be faithful in our own aching. He desires to lead us, love us, and be glorified through the story He has given us in His goodness. The Bible declares that God is near to the broken-hearted (Psalm 34:18). In fact, He has an abundance of blessing to heap on the hurting (Matthew 5:3-11). Jesus Himself hurt...deeply. Instead of denying the pain, He cried out to His Father. Shouldn't we do the same? I don't believe  hurt should be wallowed in, used to define us, or that we shouldn't look to the pain of others for our own reality check. But hurt has a purpose and we mustn't let Satan brush away the beauty of our brokenness. May we be faithful and passionate to pray for and reach out to the pain of others while still allowing our hearts to be softened and exposed to the refining fire of our own lives.

-Micah

Joy: When all Seems Lost

As Micah has shared in her recent posts life has been pretty crazy. The last 6 months of our lives have been full of turmoil, transition and trial. We have experienced love and loss in ways that we never had before and we spent most of the time wondering if our son was going to be okay and if we would have someplace to live when it was all said and done. Through it all I wrestled with God asking over and over how could He keep telling me to have faith when everything that was happening was counter to what we had prayed for, counter to what He had promised. In the midst of crying out for justice from God, He in all His humor gave me an opportunity where I was asked to write a devotional about finding Joy in trial. So what follows is how God helped me find joy in trial by trying to tell others why we truly can find joy even in the midst of trial, hardship, pain and loss.     

                                                                                                                              

But now thus says the LORD, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. (Isaiah 43:1-2 ESV)

It’s no secret that life is full of difficulties, loss, tough situations, and realities that we would prefer not to exist. On a regular basis we are faced with pain, hardship, pressure, temptation, sickness, and death. We simply need to watch the news to see how ISIS, racial tensions, shootings, drought, legal cases and economic uncertainty have affected the entire world around us. This brokenness can make it very hard to reconcile God’s promises to love and care for us when all we are experiencing is the pain and frustrations of the world. We can find ourselves questioning “Why?”. It can seem like all we are trying to do is follow God but everything keeps falling apart.

In the New Testament we see an example in Paul of someone who definitely may have thought that very thing. Paul was a missionary who spent his life traveling all over the world telling people about Jesus. Yet his devotion to God did not result in pleasure. In fact, 2 Corinthians 11:22-33 tells us that because he believed in God he was brutally beaten and imprisoned numerous times. During his life he was also shipwrecked three times and robbed more than once including many other things. Instead of growing bitter or losing his faith in God, Paul says that he rejoices in his suffering because it produces endurance, which produces character, which produces hope that will not disappoint because God loves us (Romans 5:3-5). You see Paul knew that just like danger can produce courage in a person, trials also can produce spiritual maturity because they give us the opportunity to have our faith tested which we know from last week is an important thing. Paul experienced an immense amount of pain yet through it he matured into the father of the modern church.

Ultimately there are very few words that can or should be spoken to someone experiencing trial or grief. No words can replace what was lost and there is no answer to the grief-filled questions asking “Why”. There is, however, one action that can bring relief, peace and in time healing; the death and resurrection of Jesus. No matter what happens we can know that God does love us. How do we know? Because He sent His son to experience pain, suffering and trial on the cross. The greatest pain and suffering anyone could ever experience is the punishment for their sins but God has already offered salvation from that. How can we say that God doesn’t love us because we experience pain when He has already taken away our greatest pain?

Acts 16:25 tells us that at one point in his ministry Paul was sitting in jail having just been beaten to within an inch of his life. In that moment Paul and the people with him began to pray and sing praises to God and as a result the walls of the prison literally fell down and Paul was able to walk away free. This does not mean we can expect our troubles to disappear just because we sing but in Paul we have an example of how God is with us and working in us through the hard points in our lives; and that is something to be joyful about.

So whether you are in the midst of a trial now or whether you are headed into a time that will be a trial, remember that even though nothing can make the pain go away, we can find joy. Find joy like Paul in knowing that you will not have to live forever in trial but someday we will worship God in heaven without any trial. Find joy by remembering that God can and does bring about beautiful things from ashes. And find joy knowing in the knowledge that God did not forsake you. He sent his son to die on the cross so that your trials would not overwhelm you but strengthen you.

                                                                                                                               

The past 6 months of my life may be the hardest I have ever experienced but their have also resulted in the greatest spiritual growth I have ever experienced. Through all the trials of life I can truly say, it is well with my soul because I know the LORD will never forsake me!

-Silas

Bring the Reign

In every direction, the parched ground throbs--

Longing, aching for cleansing sobs.

The blistering heat, relentless and cruel

Beats down with pain far beyond brutal.

In the midst of this wasteland, a tiny plant cowers,

Growing weaker and weary with each passing hour.

In her own strength, she tries to once again stand,

Hoping she’s strong enough to survive this land.

But no matter her effort, death only snakes nearer.

She curses her weakness; the end becomes clear.

Her final leaves cling to a shriveled stem;

One more blow to be the end of them.

With each passing second, all hope is lost;

This deserted land a life will cost.

Refusing, unwilling to beg for salvation,

This broken life is surely forsaken.

With a final effort, the frail one cries,

Calling the One who holds the skies.

She shudders and aches in her lack of power,

Begging, pleading for redeeming showers.

Alone and broken, death not to be cheated,

She crumbles in surrender, fully defeated.

Then far in the distance, a rumble is heard;

Her weak head raises, her eyes heavenward.

Much closer this time, thunder quakes and drums;

The tiny plant knows her salvation has come.

Across the expanse, gray beauty churns,

Swelling with life for which the plant yearns.

First one drop, two, and then a thousand more--

This life in the desert is seen and fought for!

Leaves open and catching each precious drop,

Soaking in life from bottom to top.

“My child!” A voice bellows, “Stand in awe of me!

I am the salvation you long to see!

In your own strength you’ll always crumble and fail;

Seek me, and my glory, my beauty unveiled!”

The plant once again fell in a weak, helpless heap.

This time in awe, her heart to leap!

Her Creator had seen her and brought her to life;

His strength alone could carry her strife.

All glory is due to His mighty name,

For He is the One who is worthy to reign.

~Micah

Dear 2014

Dear 2014,

You were perhaps the most life-changing 365 days I have experienced thus far. Between your bookends, I traveled to Haiti where my flame for missions was fanned. I buried my brother and began a journey of deepest hurt and healing. I graduated from college and moved to Wichita. I married my sweet Silas and am slowly beginning to learn to love and be loved as our Father loves. Marriage has brought the purest of joys while I have thrashed and questioned beneath the weight of commitment and the beautiful trial that is matrimony. I became a teacher and realized even further the depth of my passion for reaching those with special needs, and yet found myself drowning in the system. Friendships faded and I battled not feeling well for months. As I have many times before, I experienced loss, heartache, and the scorching blaze of refining fire. I felt the frozen fingers of bitterness squeezing the very life from my soul. I clawed and grasped in a desperate attempt to cling to all that has held my identity for 22 years, screaming at God to show up. I questioned, pleaded, and doubted. My Father faithfully dissolved, one by one, the idols that have held my identity captive for so long. I found myself flailing, no longer able to find fulfillment in anything but everything that HE is. As you draw to a close 2014, it could be easy to hope that this year is easier. I could wish for a year with less pain, less decisions, and less weakness. I could choose to ask for a year where I will be the one to shine, where my marriage will be a fairytale, where my career will be fulfilling and certain, where those I love are guaranteed safety. I could demand a nice house and the American dream. But then…where would the beauty be?  I am only here, I am only gifted, able, and beautifully formed in His image so that HE may be glorified! You were far from easy, 2014. But you were beautiful. The breath-taking handprint of the reigning King in unmistakably present within your each and every moment. I was held, I was refined, I was provided for, I was fought for. God faithfully stripped away that which marred His beauty in my life and gently tended to that which would make me more like Him. He has fought for my heart through my rejection, bitterness, and heartbreak. Therefore, I will welcome 2015 with expectation and excitement of how God will glorify Himself in the coming days. I know that the refining has only just begun. More idols will await their annihilation, more lessons must be learned, and more change than ever is on the horizon. Through it all, God will provide as He always has. Because of His sovereignty and goodness, I step forward with my husband in confidence and faith. I will choose to cling to my Faithful Father, to His promises, and to my husband. Together, Silas and I will hold with open hands all that He has given, taken, and is yet to give and take. GLORY be to the God most high, who lavishes His grace, favor, and blessing on His children. I praise Him for all that you were, 2014, and for all that 2015 is yet to reveal.

Sincerly, 

Micah Rachel Pederson

In the midst of darkness

         I despise the ever-changing calendar, marking time that has come and passed.With each fleeting day, I am expected to be healed. I am expected to be whole… I am expected to sing the song of beauty that has risen from my ashes. But I am not healed. I am not whole. I have yet to see the beauty. Rather, I am more broken than before. The gaping whole in my heart is ever-widening, shredded open by the loss of you lived anew day after day. I am so tired of pushing forward. I am so weary of thrusting memories aside and allowing the necessity of carrying on to be the salve expected to bring relief to my searing pain. I wait for a time when your life and the loss of it will leave a beautiful melody whispered throughout each chapter remaining. But eight months later, I am still consumed. I am suffocating, I am hurting, I am wrestling. The beauty I crave is hidden beneath layers of weariness, loneliness, and the throbbing ache of an inability to understand.

           Yet, somehow, in the midst of my darkness, I am held. In the middle of my heartache, my anger, my sorrow, I know that He is for me and not against me. I know that His heart is breaking, His tears are flowing, and His arms are clenched around me. At a time when I cannot always feel, I know. May the truth of HIS promises, HIS victory, and HIS glorious story be lifted high. If I never see, if I never understand, may the beauty of Christ Himself be reflected in my heart, my life, my story. Throughout the pain that has been and the pain that is yet to come, may I choose to praise Him and cling to Him. He is good.

 “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”

2 Corinthians 1:3-4 

Beneath the Surface

I went to my brother's grave alone for the first time.

I was surprised that in over two months, it hadn't changed much.

My heart surrendered to a surge of anger as my eyes glared at the dry, cracked mound in front of me. 

 Is this all there is to mark a life so beautiful?

Death is so cruel, so final, so hideous.

I sank to my knees and watered the dry and weary land of my heart with tears I have long awaited.

Father, where are you?

Will I ever be whole again?

Where is the beauty my heart longs for?

“Lift the dirt.” He whispered.

So I did.

Beneath a surface so hideous and lifeless, new life abounded!

All I can see are broken pieces...a parched, worn, and weary land.

But my God is fulfilling His purpose.

Beneath the brokenness, He is breathing new life.

Within the pain, He is nurturing growth.

Throughout this desert drought, His love is quenching.

I will yet praise Him.

Iron

Around my heart, an iron fist clenches

Imprisoning raw, emotional wrenches

Beneath the metal my flesh throbs defeat

Swelling and writhing with each booming beat.

The cold fingers tighten with each wave of pain;

Jeering of strength, aloneness, and shame.

I'm imprisoned within a heart that's my own,

I cannot grieve, I feel all alone.

It won't last much longer, devastation is near.

The pain is too much, the pressure severe.

A wave of tears flow from far down deep

Begging for freedom, release from this keep.

But each glistening drop is slammed back from liberation

By a wall of destruction in the name of protection.

I'm dying inside, awaiting disaster;

I can't seem to grasp my freedom, My Master.

Father, shatter the dam that holds my tears in

Let my grief be released as peace fills again.

Pry open the fingers of iron inside me;

God, let me be broken for then I will see thee .

You promise You're near to each one brokenhearted;

Break me O God, may my strength be discarded.

Let the tears of my heart be the tears on my cheek;

May my grief mix with yours as Your heart I seek.

I miss my brother.

The Dance

The beat is slow, painful, and deep

Bellowing tragedy, grief, defeat.

The rhythm is quick, light, and full

It chirps of victory, and life beautiful.

The words are scrambled, confusing and dark

Sobbing of loss and death's ugly mark.

The lyrics are joy-filled, a sweet jubilee

Singing the peace of grace over me.

My feet are stumbling, unbearably sore

I can't keep up, the tears sting and pour.

My toes feel free as I twirl and spin

I jump and leap and praise through a grin.

My partner is missing, I'm deserted, alone

I stumble and trip with no way to be shown.

My lover is close, I feel the beat of His heart

He leads me and teaches me each step of my part.

This dance is unbearable, I can't find my way

My heart is destroyed by this cavity each day.

This waltz is life-giving, teaching me to sing

Showing me beauty and glimpses of my King.

Darkness and light, beauty and pain.

Heartache and joy, they mingle the same.

For grief is the dance partner of hope.

Peasant Girl

 Once, there lived a peasant girl. Each and every day, she wasn't quite sure why she was alive. She would try thing after thing to bring happiness and purpose into her life. For a while, each thing would work. But no matter what she tried, after some time had passed, that thing would stop making her happy. This went on and on. After a few years of life, the girl began to notice that her skin was becoming a different color in some places. Not pleasant colors, mind you, but filthy colors and the spots began to smell. She tried to clean them off, but nothing would work. Over time, the spots became larger and larger and smellier and smellier. They made the peasant girl sick and each day was becoming less and less enjoyable to live. But she didn't know what else to do, so she continued trying to find happiness and a way to clean the terrible spots that were taking over her body. Although the girl dreamed of being happy and clean someday, she realized she wasn't sure that would ever happen and she was very much alone. She tried very hard to get people to like her, but who would want to be friends with a girl who was stinky, dirty, and unhappy? Even when a person truly did like the girl, the girl couldn't believe it because she didn't even like herself. After many years of living like this, the girl began to cry one day. She cried and cried as she thought about how badly she wanted to be happy and clean and beautiful and unalone one day. As she cried, she felt someone watching her. She looked up and sitting next to her was the King of the entire Kingdom. She had heard about this king for many years...about how nice He was and how He loved His people. But she had never really understood the King's love because He had seemed so far away. Yet here He was...sitting right next to her. “I love you.” He said. “I know, I know...” She sobbed. “You love me because You have to! You're the King and kings are required to love their people.” The King looked her in the eyes.“It is so much more than that....I like you. I desire you. I enjoy you. My heart has broken for you year after year as I have watched you longing to be clean and happy.” “You...you.....like me?” The girl's heart exploded as she realized that what she had dreamed about her entire life could come true. She and the King sat for hours. With one touch He cleaned all her filth away. On her heart, He placed a beautiful seal, declaring that she was His daughter. The girl had hoped for happiness....but the joy that consumed her heart was almost too much to contain! The transformation was true and for a few years, the girl bounded through life exclaiming the goodness of the King. He never left her side. She was so excited to wake up each morning and the best part of the day was when she sat right next to the King's throne and told Him all the things she was thinking, feeling, and wondering. She would listen to all the amazing things He had to tell her and teach her. The world still threw painful blows at her each day, but life with the King was such a good life. Inside this kingdom, there was also an evil serpent who longed to rob the True King of His throne. The transformed heart and life of the girl threatened his mission. The serpent had to do something. The serpent began whispering lies to the heart of the girl. Some she recognized immediately and told the King about. He would tell her the truth and the lie would have no hold on her. But some lies sunk into her heart before she even knew they were lies. In a very short amount of time, the girl began to change. Her joy seemed to disappear. Her security was shredded, hanging in threads strewn across a heart that was now raw and throbbing, exposed to each flesh-slashing blow the world threw at her. The people of the kingdom began to ask: “Who is this girl who sits in tears...again? Who is this girl who is lonely, weak, and hurting? Who is this girl whose stability is frail, easily defeated by a sentence spoken, a glance given, or circumstances met? Who is this girl who fights to believe she is beautiful, who questions her value, who must war for joy and peace? Who is this girl who is desperately afraid? Who is this girl who believes she is too needy, too emotional, and too broken to be honest? Surely this girl cannot be the daughter of the King of Kings! The one who was rescued and erupted with joy at the dawn of each day? This cannot be the daughter who is flawless, covered in a cloak of grace. This cannot be the daughter who is beautiful beyond compare, knit together and shaped by the author of beauty. This cannot be the daughter who was bought with a high price and is valuable beyond compare, whose security lies in the unchanging nature of the Almighty King. This cannot be the daughter who is never alone because the King never leaves her side.” One of the girl's true friends and another daughter of the King stepped forward and looked closely at the girl's heart. At first glance, it appeared that the King's seal was gone! But as she looked closer, she could see that the evil serpent had painted a thick layer of sludge over the seal. There were gashes around the seal where he had tried to pry it off but had failed. With the realization that she was still the daughter of the King, the girl rejoiced! She was broken, battered, and bruised, but she was still His! She called to the King and with His help, the seal on her heart soon shimmered once more in the sunlight. He nursed her bruises, held her close, and whispered His truth once more in her ear. That day, the girl learned a valuable lesson. Life with the King isn't something she could expect to be easy. The evil serpent was relentlessly looking for ways to steal and destroy. She was going to have to fight each and every day. She would have to clean off her seal, examine her heart for the seeds of lies, and always be ready to call to the King and the other children of the King for help. But no matter what, she would always be the beautiful, loved, cherished, daughter of the King of Kings.

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Inclusions

I'm a “new beginnings” kind of girl. I love new days...new places...new opportunities....and I LOVE the start of each New Year. At the beginning of each January, I take time to reflect and journal. I write a little bit about the events of the year and then I write a list of questions that I don't yet know the answer to, but will next year. I then write the answers to last year's questions that I now know. While I was completing this little tradition last year, God laid the name Esther on my heart. I read some about Esther and found that before she was brought before the king to see if she would be a suitable wife, she spent a year being made beautiful. One of my questions last year was: Will I get engaged this year? As I thought about Esther and the possibility of my own engagement in the near future, I decided I wanted to give the year 2013 to my Father to make me inwardly beautiful. In my mind, this meant that I was purposefully asking to be held in the refining fire for 12 months, and at the end of that 12 months, large amounts of my personal yuck would be gone and I would be a brilliant gem, ready to be a wife. There were specific character flaws that I saw in my own life that I was expecting God to eliminate. It was maybe going to be a tough year, but it would be GREAT at the end. You know the whole “His ways are higher than ours” verse? God saw my year of beautifying far different than I did. Rather than scrubbing away the few soiled spots I already saw, God showed me sin after sin after sin in my life that I didn't even know existed. After a couple months, I was worn from daily seeing myself through a new pair of eyes. I felt awful about myself and the state of my heart. I wanted to cry out, “THIS WAS NOT WHAT I MEANT, FATHER!” Apparently, I was fine having sin in my life that was hidden...I just wanted the visible stuff gone. As I sat at the end of 2013, I felt anything but beautiful. I felt like a lump of filth that had been wholly exposed. I was disappointed and hurt. I was disappointed in God for not making me beautiful. I was disappointed in myself for being such a rotten person. Now, here I was engaged and feeling the farthest I had ever felt from being ready to be a Godly wife. As I brought these pains and questions before God, He met me in the sweetest of ways. He reminded me of the process of refining diamonds. Diamonds often have specks or imperfections in them that are called inclusions. The diamond refiner must spend time first cleaning off the outer grime and then fully examining the diamond under bright light and magnification to spot any inclusions before they can be removed. God really WAS making me beautiful...but in a much deeper way that I could have known. He is too good of a Father to just wipe away the outer grime...He loves me so much that He wants to dig deep that I may truly know and reflect Him. He is refining me in a way that will never be "finished" during my life on earth. I will not arrive at a place called "Beautiful"...I am instead on an amazing journey of growth and dependence on Him. Beauty is reflected in and through this journey of my priceless relationship with Him. Now, He is teaching me to rejoice in all that He has brought to light because it is not my job to purify myself. Of course I become depressed when I am prideful enough to believe I must remove all the inclusions! But what joy I am finding in discovering grace and the peace of knowing my God is good enough to truly refine His daughter. I do not feel ready to be a Godly wife...but I now know that I don't have to. As I am faithful to respond to His leading and lean fully on His grace, He will provide, He will show Himself through me, and He will give me great delight in the journey. My own engagement ring has one little black inclusion in it...rather than an imperfection, what a precious reminder of grace and unconditional love.

"In Him, we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace..."

~Ephesians 1:7~

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I Am Nothing

The last year has been a journey. When I think of the words journey, I think of excitement, movement, adventure, and growth. However, those are not the words that jump to mind when I reflect on the last year. Instead, I think of a journey in the desert…I think of dryness, death, staleness, and being stagnant. I think of unanswered cries, aloneness, and anger. I think of a year I would not re-live by choice. None-the-less, it was a journey. I cannot think of a time when I felt more frustrated with myself or with God. I’ve hurt before, but never because I could not feel Him for so long or because I did not know that He loved me. This time in my life brought a kind of pain, anger, and drought I had never known before. Day after day, I thought if I just do ____________, then I will feel Him again! I will be loved again. Nothing. Satan’s lies swirled around my heart, attacking every wound I didn’t know I had. One day I journaled:

“What do I long for? My burn for the beauty of Christ reflected in me has all but disappeared in recent months. I have been merrily surviving. My heart is no longer engaged in a war, but sitting content enough to be disturbing on the enemy line. I have given up. Jealousy has seeped into every crevice of my fermenting flesh, leaving raw and tender spots eaten open, fully exposed to the wrath of the world around me. Satan’s forked tongue tickles my ear as he intimately whispers the tempting, lush fruit of discontentment into my starved and grabbing soul. ‘You are not useful.  You are not beautiful.’ I wait. I seek. I cry. Will redemption come?”

Throughout this entire time, I thought I was surrendering. I wanted growth so badly that I spent every second forcing myself to “mature.” There is nothing wrong with desiring growth…right? As long as I am becoming “better,” I will eventually feel God again and become who I want to be! I just have to keep trying. I just have to keep begging God to change me. The funny thing is, the only pronoun used is I. I was becoming better…I was going to grow...I was going to rescue myself. I took my life, my growth, my salvation into my own hands. I also discovered that one of Satan’s fiercest lies is that isolation is better and easier. I mean, I don’t want to burden people, do I? I am strong enough! I can overcome. I cannot count the hours I spent alone in my dorm room staring at the wall, thinking and trying to change. I cut out my friends, the Body of Christ. I hardly journaled anymore. My ministry shrunk. The girls on my floor were not loved as Christ would have loved them.  Rather than awakening filled with joy and whispering good morning to my King, I would awake exhausted at the thought of battling through another day of aloneness and condemnation. I thought God was the one condemning me. The thing is, God doesn’t condemn. In fact, His love and sacrifice is freedom from condemnation! As a friend finally told me, “There is conviction and there is condemnation. One is from God, one is a lie from the pit of hell.” The truth is: we are not always going to feel God. And really, what an amazing thing! If He were just a feeling, hope would be lost. God did answer me. He was answering me the entire time. But I was too blinded by my drive for emotional highs, my desire to become who I thought He and all those around me wanted me to become. Really, all He wants is my heart. If I can trust who He is, even when emotion fades, there is freedom. Satan is a pro at using Christian ideals as filthy and deadly chains. More than anything, I have learned that I am nothing. When I take my life from His nail-scarred hands into my own small, filthy ones, failure is imminent. I am nothing. I cannot do, create, or become anything. But when He takes hold, I am everything He says I am. I may be nothing…but I am loved. I am His. He is everything and He will be glorified.

"You gave abundant showers, O God; You refreshed Your weary inheritance."

~Psalm 69:9~