"Survival Year"

About 2010: I. Can't. Wait. For. 2011.

I absolutely love New Year's celebrations. I love everything about reflecting and thinking about the past year, thanking God for his faithfulness. I love planning and dreaming for the coming year, "what can it possibly hold!?". That being said, I am SO excited for this new year! Especially after 2010...

I sat with a friend the other night and she said, "You've had a pretty disheartening year, haven't you?" Yes. And Christmas seemed to follow suit in typical 2010 style...tough, but meaningful. We had just a few slight changes to flow with this year!:

• The synthetic tree (don't judge) which we've used since I can remember was replaced by a "real" tree.
• Our "real" tree was ornament-less because I flew in just two days before Christmas and Mom worked until the that exact moment.
• We're pretty famous for our massive Christmas Eve celebration - house overflowing with people, noise, craziness. This year, it was just me, Mom, Dad and my 84 year old Uncle.
• Most of all, we missed our Grandmother. And all of the flair and fabulousness she brought to Christmas. I wish I could post this picture of her: She's in her floor-length nightgown, circa 1980, standing in the middle of the living room with all the Christmas chaos. Wrapping paper is strewn everywhere and she is smiling broadly, stylishly holding her glasses in her thumb and forefinger, her other hand on her hip, laughing at all the kids going crazy over their gifts. Classic.

We dubbed this year "survival Christmas" and made fun of all our holiday shortcomings. Upon surveying the tree Christmas morning, Mom said, "Oh guys, the tree...smells so beautiful. This is the first time I've ever paid $36 for a 5 foot tall air freshener. I don't regret it."

We gave each other frivolous gifts and laughed at our overreactions. "Oh my! A new calendar! THANK YOU!" "No problem. I know you've been having trouble remembering your months." The best part of me giving Dad a calendar was that when my Brother and Sister-in-Law's box of goodness arrived (Monday), they had, in fact, gifted him with another calendar. (If he misses any appointments he's got no one to blame but himself.)

It was a very different Bock Christmas. But we did manage to hold to two traditions. Our enchilada dinner on Christmas Eve was fabulous and we did squeeze in a Christmas fire, something we were accustomed to doing surrounded by frost and snow, but sand didn't make it any less magical and soul-filling.

And all was well. We were reminded of what's really important. (Yes, Jesus. We were reminded of Jesus. Soapbox moment: we should probably be a little more concerned that we often forget Jesus every other day of the year because of our general, having nothing to do with Christmas, busyness and materialism. He's to be celebrated every day. Ok, done with soapbox.)

We were reminded of family...

We didn't realize how few Christmasses we'd have with Gramma, standing regally in the middle of the living room directing the festivities. So we celebrated each other, from West Virginia to Arizona to Hawaii. And the rest was comedic material...

Onto 2011! A brand new start. 365 new mercies. Who knows what the year holds! I started writing my goals down (and even some dreams) to post soon...

HAPPY NEW YEAR dear friends. So glad we get to walk it together (at least in some way)!

The Dreams of The Barren

“Sing, barren woman, you who never bore a child;

burst into song, shout for joy, you who were never in labor;

because more are the children of the desolate woman

than of her who has a husband.” - Isaiah

Women who wrestle with barrenness rarely, if every, discuss it. And certainly not publicly. It is far too painful. Far too present. And far too personal. I have no idea, and do not pretend to understand, the scope and magnitude of what barrenness of the womb is like.

At times, I worry I will. But I have to push away that fear as I'm sure many women, married and not, must. My heart wrenches for the women in my life who have walked through barrenness or loss in any form - it changes you forever.

A few years ago, I adopted a rule for myself: I will not share publicly that which still brings me pain. And that little rule has spared me additional pain. But, for this one area, I feel compelled to make an exception. Maybe because healing for my heart will be found in the speaking of it. Or maybe healing for yours. Maybe one of you has a word of encouragement that will be a salve to my soul. Or maybe simply the knowledge that none of us must walk alone needs to sink in a little more deeply...

I am experiencing barrenness...

Deep, disappointing, overwhelming barrenness that brings with it a nagging, relentless shame. And far too many questions to feebly attempt to answer: what have I done wrong? what is wrong with me? Am I less of a woman? Are my dreams really in God's plan? Will I ever be truly fulfilled in this area? Why do I walk this path while other women enjoy the fruitfulness that my entire being longs for? What can I do to fix it? Those questions loop in my mind all day. Every day. Whether conscious or subconscious.

You see, I have never been in a "relationship" - a romantic one. Never been taken on a date. Never been asked to a school dance. I think I may have had a boyfriend in high school? But the possibility was lost before it was defined. And, when I survey my surroundings, I see no "prospects" at the moment.

To some of my friends, this seems unthinkable, "You can't be serious...". To others, it's not such a big deal, "After all, you're only 26, Amanda.". And to be honest, it wasn't such a big deal to me. I've been busy! Getting degrees and gaining work experience, getting my house in order, my life solid with Jesus.

But something changed this year and, like the feeling of a limb awakening, life became extremely uncomfortable. And then, almost excruciating. Suddenly, I realized I was missing something. And then, that I'd always been missing it. And that I didn't know anyone else in a situation like mine. And that I saw no change forthcoming...

As I reviewed the "have not, do not and may not" situation unceasingly, the door of my dreams creaked ever nearer to a close...

It takes guts to face the stark reality of this part of my story. And strength of will not to dwell upon it. Because the other side of the coin is this: my deepest, most personal dreams hang the prospect of their fulfillment here. A marriage, where I can give a receive love. Children to wrap my arms around. Family. My family.

Dreams are dangerous. They are only for the brave, those willing to risk pain, the inexplicable kind that sweeps in and steals your breath. But it is only these risk-takers who really live. And for me, the pain of barrenness will persist, dreams or none. So, like a controlled fire that must warm me, but not overtake me, I must keep my dreams alive...in my heart, in my life, by my voice.

What a scary, terrifying thought. What a fool I am, dreaming of something I've never seen. Something that has never been real. Something that, for all I know, is impossible. (I think I just heard Jesus laugh to Himself as He works on my "impossible" situation, doing things I know not of right now...)

"Always be in a state of expectancy, and see that you

leave room for God to come in as He likes."

Oswald Chambers

Honesty.

Writers are such vital people in our lives and culture. They’re the people who put our souls in front of us, like a mirror, when we can’t describe what we’re made of. They're the people who put flesh and movement to haunting, indescribable parts of our journeys. Whether joy or despair, the best of writers are those whose words bring us empathy and comfort for things which, before, seemed unintelligible.

Sara Groves is one of those writers in my life. When I have felt vague oppression in my soul that had no frame. When I have wanted to say to someone what they really mean. When I needed to express joy, but my words couldn’t do it justice. I have always found expression in her music. (My Mother cautioned us as kids to not use the words “always” and “never”. “They’re rarely accurate,” she’d say. But this time, I mean it!)

That is why tonight was so special. For several years, I’ve mulled over lyrics or been comforted by the camaraderie I found in Sara Groves’ music. But I had never been to a concert! Until tonight. We sat only two rows back at this small venue, about eight feet from the songbird herself! And as she made her way to the keyboard, I was completely overwhelmed. Moved to tears. And she hadn’t sung a note! Honestly, I felt like a creepy fan, I'm not gonna lie. I started talking to myself, “Amanda, seriously. Calm. Down. You are out of control.” Until I realized, my response was actually very merited.

The truth is…Sara Groves has been "with" me in so many seasons of life. She has rejoiced with me over victories, interceded with me about broken relationships, helped me express frustration, fear and turmoil, walked with me through grief, held my hand through scary transitions, and helped me tell Jesus how truly I love Him. She has been a great friend and mentor. And here I sat…just feet away. The moment was so…personal.

It was as if I could see all the seasons of my life passing on a screen, the same voice lullabying me through them. Each song carrying another memory with it. Every melody bringing back stories of God’s faithfulness, healing and love. Songs of praise and dedication. Words that helped me mourn and rejoice in the same breath.

I couldn’t help it; I afforded myself the luxury of letting a few tears escape.

And I made a new commitment to myself.

What has made Sara Groves’ music so powerful to me all this time is her honesty. Her willingness to say the things others won’t. She has spoken vulnerable words which brought reassurance to my spirit, “You are not alone.” She has mentored me in sincerity and authenticity because I want to do the same. I want to speak things that will bring liberty to people, freedom that allows them be who they are, where they are. I want to be one of those writers who makes someone’s corner of the world just a little less lonely…

So, I’ll be getting a little more “honest” around here, this little blog. And if it doesn’t resonate with you, at least you’ll know how to pray for me! But I’m fairly confident I’m not the only one walking this path, quiet as it may seem.

The first of these "honest" posts is already written, actually. I'm just gaining a little more chutzpah before debuting it!

Until then...

my sister.

It was a great weekend. And tonight is a great night. Our schedules usually don't permit the fabulousness that's been the past few days, but we love it when they do. I used to think I was going to spend a lot of my life without a friend like this...but one day, an incredible thing happened.

When I was 11, I met this really snobby girl. I was friends with her sister, and I wasn't really sure I was going to like her. She came from the "cooler/upscale" school in "town" to our little, backwoods elementary school. And, I can't say we hit it off...

But then, in almost an instant, we became the best of friends. Life changed forever. I have a fabulous big brother, the best anyone could ask for. But, surrounded by boys all of my life, I really wished I had a sister. I had no idea Jesus would give us such a gift. He's really good at what He does.

And, without her, this season of life would be so different. And much harder. Friday night, we decorated my Christmas tree. And, with the final ornament in place, we shut the lights off to fully see the tree in its glory. You could hear quiet tears as I whispered, "She would be really proud of this tree...", both of us misty-eyed. It's true - sorrow divided.

And man do we laugh. About anything. And everything. Laughter is the token trait of quality life, to me anyway. And my sister makes it easy...

When I am down and need to cry till morning,

I know just where I am going.

When I'm in need of sweet commiseration

To speak out loud...

Raise a glass to friendship

And to knowing you don't have to go alone.

We'll raise out hearts to share each other's burdens

On this road.

Every burden I have carried,

Every joy--it's understood.

Life with you is half as hard,

And twice as good.

With my good news you're dancing on the table:

Baby's born, to celebration.

The joy of life, oh what a sweet communion,

Shared with you.

Every burden I have carried,

Every joy--it's understood.

Life with you is half as hard,

And twice as good.

I know we're growing older,

Can you imagine what that will bring?

It's all a mystery to me now,

Except this one thing:

It'll be half as hard, and twice as good

Christmas and Feng-Shui

I've been in my fabulous little apartment for almost two years now. And, last Christmas, I opted out of buying a Christmas tree because I thought it might be a little sad. You know, a generic tree, decorated with store-bought ornaments, present-less...I just couldn't do it. But I was wrong. It's actually far more sad to have no tree at all!

So this year, I got super excited to get one and yesterday, when I heard Lowe's had some on sale, I got online to check out the deals. I spotted the perfect one - pre-lit, 6 1/2 feet. The best part? $38.00! I rushed in to Lowe's only to find out, no tree. They were sold out.

BUT! Not to worry, my fabulous Pastorette had accompanied me. She's far too classy to haggle. But she has her ways. (And I'm sure my pathetic, "I'll love you for the rest of my life, sir" face helped just a little.)

I walked out of Lowe's with a non-sale tree that was suddenly on sale for just the right price! (I'm not going to lie...I smiled like a dork all the way to my car. And possibly all the way back to work.)

With the excitement of my new tree, I just had to make space in my apartment for this 6 foot addition! I looked around at my bulky furniture, including a rather large armoire. "Well, I think I can handle it..." I shifted the couch/loveseat/oversized armchair half a dozen times, standing back after each move and putting my hands on my hips. "Nope."

And finally, "I have to move the armoire. I'm not taking everything out of it. Too much work." So I try pushing...arms extending. Pulling, leaning back as far as possible. Putting my shoulder into it. Leaning my back against it. Not even an inch. After my final effort, I slide onto the floor with a deep sigh. "Ok, one more try."

But this time, I use my most abundant resource ;) That's right, I single-buttedly moved my armoire five feet from one wall to the other! Then, I stood back and said..."Nope." Sighed heavily, and repeated the process back to the other wall. Finally finding the perfect feng-shui for my space. Oh the single life...

I came to work today only for the guys to tell me I can buy casters to place under my furniture that will let me slide it anywhere...

Wow.

broken-hearted hallelujahs

I'll never forget a sermon on communion that I heard while in school at Southeastern University. Pastor Sam Hemby taught on "What Jesus Always does with Bread" and it changed me. My way of thinking. Without fail, when Jesus took up bread, he "took it. blessed it. broke it. and gave it.". And Pastor Sam told us to be looking for this pattern in our lives. We, too, are taken, blessed, broken...and given.

I'm thankful that brokenness always has a purpose.

If not, this season would be so discouraging. But the seed of brokenness gives way to a harvest of giving. Any time we seem to be shattered, God is simply creating space to give of Himself through us. And I'm finding that my greatest offering to Him is my broken-hearted hallelujah. The song I sing to Him, blessing Him, just for loving me. That if my situation never changes. If my hopes never become reality. If what I used to see when I scanned the horizon doesn't reappear. He is my more-than-enough God. And what a gift it is to be taken, blessed...Broken...and given. What a privilege to have anything worth giving.

This morning as I listened to our missionary guest, my heart was stirring within me. I was so glad! Though missions giving is part of my life already, I've been really anticipating what project would catch my breath and compel me. I didn't expect this one. And I didn't expect it to be so personal...

Our guest was describing Mission of Mercy and the children (40,600 of them) that they care for. Their desperate situations - poverty, sickness, loneliness. Things that always cause us to wince and survey our lives with new grateful eyes. And I felt prompted, "I would love to sponsor one of these precious kids..."

Then, the speaker gave the typical, "for just 34$ a month...". And my heart sank. "Jesus, I don't have the money. I mean, I'm only meeting my current commitments by your supernatural provision."

"That's right," I felt His gentle response, "so what does another 34$ matter?" A grin spread across my face and I held in a hearty laugh. "You're right. Absolutely right, Lord."

And then - it got more personal.

See, hope is a tricky thing. And dreams, well, they're even more evasive. On the horizon of my life I used to look out and see family, my "one day" family. A relentlessly hilarious, and desperately aggravating, husband. Children who take my breath away daily. Us doing life. Together. But now, when I scan the horizon, I'm not so sure. Now, I see shadows which seem vague and undefined.

And, I evaluate the dream, "Jesus, is this really in your plan for my life? Or...my plan for my life?..."

I release the dream and fully embrace His plan for my "now". Knowing that, if this hope is part of His plan for me, it will be returned to me in perfect timing. I ponder...Maybe the times are too urgent. Maybe there is too much to be done for Him. Maybe the situation in our world is too desperate for my focus to be divided. Maybe time cannot afford for me to live out that part of life. Maybe, I will not be married. Maybe...I will not have children. I soak in His peace - what He has shall be.

And this morning, the Lord whispered to my heart, as compassionately as always, "You no longer need to wait. You are already a spiritual mother. Give care to those I have placed near you. I've given you the opportunity to mother some you may never even meet."

I am broken.

So I give. I worship. I serve. I sing broken-hearted hallelujahs that seem to please His ear even more than songs of triumphant praise. I whisper, "I love you" out of desperate moments of heartache. And smile widely because I feel His pleasure in my offerings. His great and overwhelming pleasure with my simple giving of just me.

Shailesh is my new kid. He's 10 years old and lives in India. (I was hoping he'd be from India - I secretly want to go there someday.) He and I, we both count on Jesus for daily bread. And I'm so grateful to be part of providing his.

He's the newest part of this hallelujah chorus God is writing in my life...

grace that guides us

So I'm sitting here at Sky Harbor airport in Phoenix. A little grumpy because it's 1:30 in the afternoon and I never went to sleep last night. It was my first, and possibly last, Black Friday experience (though we found some INCREDIBLE deals). I'm here two hours prior to my flight; we're a perpetually punctual family. And I've got plenty of time to collect my thoughts, do some people watching and catch up on some reading.

On the flip-side of this leisurely airport sitting session is a slight aggravation: I'm so ready for my bed. Just bump my flight up an hour and a half and get me home! It's a four and a half hour flight, the sooner it begins, the sooner the conclusion of awkward physical contact with strangers can end. Ew...

But, back to the point...I got a call from my mom just a few minutes ago. She said, "Good thing we came when we did. We just got back on I-10 and watched a major collision westbound. We'd have never gotten through that mess. We would have been in traffic for quite a while...or worse, part of the crash."

A reminder in my heart that God's timing is perfect. Even when I feel something is rushed upon me prematurely. Or when I'm waiting indefinitely for hopes, dreams or provisions to become reality. God's grace is always guiding. If I just take time to hear Him, His gentle leading, He will make my paths straight.

I'm especially thankful for that grace this Thanksgiving. This was my first visit home since Gramma went to be with Jesus. It was surreal. We enjoyed our time together. Mom and I cooking up the turkey-day feast and Dad bringing the day to completion with a nice fire outside. But there was a gaping hole. One of which none of us spoke really. But in brief silences, the howl of the wind made the vacancy known.

Our family is very different now, though we're working together to grow accustomed to our new "state". We just miss her. I sat in her room, in the chair that I sat beside her for what felt like an eternity. The same vantage point I had when she was in the bed beside me. But it didn't matter how long I sat there...the bed was empty. She has been lifted. Hallelujah...

Even in this, great comfort is found in my heart when I consider that God's perfect timing, and His ever-present grace, is guiding all of our lives.

Sorry for the unannounced hiatus - totally not intentional. This is the part where I should probably make some sort of commitment about how I'm going to write more. But, alas, I will forego said obligatory phraseology. I want to write more. I hope to write more. But there are some deeper, more personal hopes which must be attended too, as well.

Thanks for journeying with me...

today in a picture

Posting here has been an awkward venture for me in these past few weeks. I so deeply enjoy encouraging others; it really is a most cherished part of my life to give energy and love to the people around me! Sometimes, it even discourages me when I feel I can't encourage others (now if that isn't inner conflict tell me what is). And lately (like most things) this isn't coming easily. And I feel guilty (or, let's be honest, embarrassed) just saying how I really feel or what's really going on.

I dub today "Honest Thursday" for no other reason than it allows me to speak freely. I randomly ran across this picture on Twitter and sighed deeply because it seemed to represent so much of what I've been feeling lately...

I know. Very, very random. Very. But it said this to me:

Decisions are hard.

Sometimes what you "need" isn't available at the present time.

Options are too numerous and you wish Someone would just make the right choice for you.

You can hardly even tell what's there.

...and any other interpretation of this photo that may mean "overwhelmed".

Well, not too encouraging, huh? But candid, nonetheless.

Tomorrow is Friday. Which is my "Saturday". And I look forward to some time with Jesus that I've missed during the chaos of the week. And the encouragement that comes to my soul and then out of my soul from those times.

Confessions of a Brat

I've never been an optimist. Nope. Never. Silver lining has never been my style. My style's always varied between, "That's a huge cloud. That makes me sad. Can I go to bed now?" And, "That's a huge cloud. Let's put some structures in place to deal with the rain it will bring. I'm pretty sure a few good things could come out of the rain, too. Maybe. Possibly." (The latter seems to be my more frequent m.o.

I would like to submit that, along with the labels of "optimist," "pessimist," and "realist," we begin using the term, "pragmatist." - a practical person interested in the outcome of situations. Just for me of course. "That's egocentric," you might say? Yes. It is. But the world would be a better place if everyone just understood me a little more. Eh? Jusssst kidding.

In saying this, however, those of us with a bit more melancholy personalities have to take much initiative to find the "good" in our lives. Being thankful. Celebrating life. Finding things that make us smile. I'm not going to lie: that's been hard work for me lately. And in the past couple of weeks (no excuses), I wanted to quit searching for good things. I've even gotten a bit sarcastic with God. "Yes, let me find my miner's cap and start my search for something good in the middle of my life." (I'm working well with my new baldness after being struck by lightening.)

I can't allow myself the luxury of bratty ingratitude. It just doesn't work out for anyone, no matter the season of life or the difficulty at hand. "Let the peace of Christ rule in your heart and be thankful," Paul says. And I'm working diligently on this. Again.

So! Today I bring you another "happy list". I love lists in general - but especially when they're full of wonderful things about of life! Here you have it:

1. Humor. I've always felt that if I can laugh I can make it through anything.

2. Leigh Jarvis. The people who've been with you the longest and know you the best and yet, somehow, still have good thoughts about you.

3. Writing. I always know that, no matter what happens, I can write about it. And that brings comfort.

4. My Mom. She makes our lives possible. True story.

5. My job. I have the privilege of working in an amazing place, with phenomenal people who want to do incredible things in our world.

6. Susan Isaacs. And other writers who capture life with words so very well. They make me feel much less alone.

7. My new calendar for 2010. Just love it. And can't wait to be using it more frequently.

8. Worship.

9. Good coffee. Mmm.

10. Our young adults at this church, Harbour. They keep me "real".

11. My incredible friends. Great listeners, encouragers, givers of hugs and people who propel me to my personal best.

12. Celebrating my fabulous friends' soon-coming baby boy. (And occasionally talking into her belly button so he knows me before he gets here!) Joy is a friend for life.

13. Singing. I'm not exceptionally good at it. But it's way fun in my car.

14. Heritage. My great-grandmother was saved at Azusa Street and could pray the house down.

15. Florida Winters. Reaping the benefits of summer and not having to uncover, de-ice and warm up my car before I go anywhere.

16. My new laptop. I'm a proud macbook owner. It makes me feel cooler than I am.

17. Cardigans.

18. Turquoise.

19. My grandmother's handed-down Bible and jewelry.

and 20. My little apartment.

(and there's so, so, sooo much more.)

Everyday Miracles.

Is that an oxymoron? I'm not so sure. These are the kind of miracles that are easy to overlook, but impossible to live without. And with life as it has been lately, they're the kind of miracles I've been desperately needing.

You know - you find a few dollars in your pocket totally unexpectedly, you run into an old friend you've been thinking about a lot, someone says a few words to you that you've been dying to hear. Those kind of miracles.

I have a ginormous picture frame on my wall and inscribed on it is a quote from Albert Einstein: "There are two ways of living. One, as if nothing is a miracle. And the other, as if everything is a miracle." The past few weeks have been so difficult. Without any explanation really; no major events of any sort. But just as if every day was harder than the one before. Like walking in waist-deep water. And by this week, I found myself saying, "Jesus, I just need something good. I can keep going. But I just need something good."

Friday didn't bring any of those "good" things to sight, really. It was my first genuine, for real, no doubt about it day off in quite some time. But it was also the three month mark of losing my grandmother. So, exhausted from the two weeks prior and my heart heavy with grief, I spent most of the day in my apartment, migrating between my room and my living room with tissue box in tow.

Saturday morning, I got up. Made myself get dressed for the day, though I was pretty sure it wouldn't hold anything fabulous. (Sidenote: when you ask Jesus for something good, keep your eyes open!) I knew my friends had other engagements and I was missing my family. I didn't have money to really go anywhere. So, I got up and got ready in faith: "I will find something good today."

As I finished my makeup, I got a text from a friend. "I have a buy-one-get-one coupon for smoothies! Wanna go!?" "Sure :) When?" "Now, lol" "Perfect! lol" And so I met her for our smoothie date which ended up being a double blessing - a smoothie and a counseling session. She gave me time to express the real things weighing on my heart without worry of what she would think or what time constraints we had or anything else. Everyday miracle.

Just as we finished our fabulous smoothies, other friends called, "Want to meet us for lunch?" I said, "sure," planning to go along but just get a soda or something (the two cans of tomato soup sitting in my cupboard were calling my name). When we got there, my friend informed me that she would be paying for my lunch. "And no ordering water, either." Everyday miracle.

I was overwhelmed. As we left lunch, the girls decided they wanted to do a little shopping. So I rode along. The afternoon went on and, when everyone got hungry again (apparently food is a big theme for us), ANOTHER friend decided to buy my dinner! At this point, I didn't know what to say. God had taken me from the pit and given me more than a dozen reasons to smile the next day.

Enter Sunday. I love my church. So getting to worship together with these great people makes for a wonderful day all in itself. As we got ready for service, my car sat in the front parking lot where it had been parked the day before. (Our staff always parks in the back.) "Hey can I use your car to go get some coffee and then I'll park it out back," a friend asked. " "Sure, yeah, thanks." She grabbed my keys and re-parked my car, for which I was very grateful.

After service, I left for lunch with yet another friend. I knew my gas tank was empty; I looked down to see if the light was on yet (I didn't want my friend to have to walk back from lunch with me!). I glanced down and my breath caught, "What? This thing was empty...what...!?" Then I remembered who had "re-parked" my car - with significantly more gas. Everyday miracle.

THEN! We pulled into the restaurant and parked and my lunch date notified me, "I'm paying for this. Don't argue." She took me to a fabulous lunch to celebrate Pastor Appreciation this month. And blessed me with a wonderful card that expressed her heart so very well. Everyday miracle.

A Sara Groves' song says,
"It's the everyday miracles that keep my hope alive. It's the way
You move in little things that helps me survive."

So, there may be some big-ticket items in life that overwhelm me from time to time. God's faithfulness in the day-to-day brings me hope and faith for the desperate things. This is why my favorite name for Him is "the God who sees me".

He sees you, too...Believe it...

Drive-by

This is me. Stopping by my own blog to say, "yes": I am alive. I still like to write on this blog. And I will write a REAL post soon!

The thing is, in ministry you spend too much time waiting for a "break" - like a real weekend or day off, something like that. And, much like the rest of life, you just have to stop waiting and apprehend the moment sometimes. In fact as I update this, I am typing at a ferocious pace because in about 45 minutes, neighborhood kids will be tapping on our glass doors waiting for us to let them in for Kidz Club (an outreach our young adults launched to show some love to the families who live around our church).

Never a dull moment. And I love that fact. But I also love this place; it's serene and honest and encouraging. So I shall return! By Monday at the very latest...(throws car into drive and stomps on the gas pedal)...see you then!

Making Room

As I write this, the clock just turned from 12:59 to 1:00 am. Sleep is evading me tonight. My overactive and generally restless mind just won’t stop. Many of us have brains like this and they function a bit like toddlers: it’s best to keep them occupied with sensible things or they will inevitably bring unimaginable destruction and havoc.

Tonight, my mind is occupied with surveying the horizon for what God is doing. What is He doing in the world? In the Church? In our church? In me…?

There is one element that I know for certain: He is calling His people to a new level of depth and spiritual reality. Nearly every person I know who is “out on the edge” of the move of God is (and has been) sensing this. It has happened in waves all throughout history and I firmly believe we are standing at the surging of the next wave. God is cranking open the spirits of those who make Him their first priority. He is making room for more faith, more expectation, more growth…more sacrifice. And the Church as a whole is growing discontent (a very good thing). We are crying out for “more”.

Today, though, I realized something very important through a very practical situation…

My apartment is 600 square feet. It’s small. But it’s all I need. It’s just me here. (And the occasional group of 15 or so young adults huddled in my living room.) But, when I returned from Arizona after my grandmother passed away, I moved my TV from the living room to my bedroom because I was having trouble sleeping. I needed some “white noise” to drown out my thoughts long enough for me to nod off.

However, somehow, the rest of my activities followed and my bedroom became the “hub” of my house. The chair in my room was now my prayer chair, dinner table, phone booth and the seat of honor for my guests. And in the last two and half months, my apartment went from 600 to 100 square feet.

For the first time in 18 months, my apartment felt small. And I didn’t know why! I didn’t realize I was living in my bedroom! These past two weeks, I started asking the Lord when I would be able to move into a house. I even browsed local “For Sale” homes! I had no idea why the sudden urge to have “more”. Until today, when I became so convicted about not using all the space I have.

And then, the spiritual correlation hit home. I’ve been asking, “God, enlarge my territory.” “God, use me more!” “God show me more of You!” “God, give me more to give away!” “God…” “God…” “God…”

But, am I really using all the space I have? All the resources I have? Walking in the knowledge I already have of Him? Using all the gifts I have? To the fullest?...Or have I become so familiar with all of those (and so tired of using things like “patience” or “long-suffering” or “sacrificial love”) that I want something new for novelty sake?

God’s not interested in my amusement. He’s interested in my faithfulness and obedience. He’s watching to see what I do with what I’m given. And, to be honest, at times I can be enough of a selfish brat to behave as if I have “nothing”.

I once saw a documentary on lottery winners. Did you know that the vast majority of these people suffer immense devastation in their lives after the big win? Divorce, drug addiction, financial ruin, death. Because they didn’t know how to manage “little” before “much” was dumped into their lives.

As I stand at the edge of what God is doing, I pray that I am found faithful with “little”. I want to be a workman trusted and approved, handling even the “smallest” things with great care and integrity. Making use of every resource He gives me.

He will enlarge our territory. He will bring more. For His beloved people, He always has. He has given His Word to those who rejected it. Extended His love to those who mocked Him. Provided richly for those who squandered. The “more” of Him will come. I must get busy with the “now” before this moment has passed…

“Look carefully then how you walk! Live purposefully and worthily and accurately, not as unwise and witless, but as wise (sensible, intelligent people). Making the most of the time [buying up every opportunity], because the days are evil. Therefore do not be vague and thoughtless and foolish, but understanding and firmly grasping what the will of the Lord is.” Eph. 5:15-17 AMP

dreaming today.

My friend Paige, phenomenal photographer, writer, musician, and pretty much anything-else-er, inspired me today with a Facebook status. She just said, "If you could do anything today, what would you do?"

It was like striking a match on the "dream" side of my brain. Of course, being the realist that I am, I started with "sit at a quiet beach and read a great book". But then, I realized. She said, "anything"...

And the wheels of my brain started turning, "Hmm. OH! I'd embark on my own Eat, Pray, Love trip! I've been rolling over ideas of where I'd go if I got the chance! See, in Liz Gilbert's book, she spends three months in three different places. Three months eating in Italy. Three months praying in India. Three months loving in Bali. All the while, writing. Observing. Participating. Musing. And writing. My immediate thought, "I want to do that!"

So, today, if I had the chance, I'd embark on my own nine month journey: "Eat" in France, "Pray" in Israel, "Love" in Ghana. Julia Child learned to cook and really eat in France, so why not! Israel holds wealth for my faith that I can't wait to see with my own eyes (and I will one day!). And for some reason, Ghana just draws me. As I've heard stories about the people there, I have always wanted to meet them. So, pull my passport out of the drawer and stuff the suitcase!

What do you have to do in life to make that happen!? A full nine months of exploring and enjoying! Well, if you're Liz Gilbert, you get a hefty advance on a surefire NY Times bestseller and take off! For the rest of us, a couple decades of planning and saving are probably in order. "POP! Hiss...." (That was the sound of the dream balloon bursting just above my curly, brunette head.)

Polk County will have to do for now. Come to think of it, I think our church may have ALL of these three elements rather fully covered...

Two months.

Two months doesn't seem like much time. Only eight weeks; just 60 days. And as I get older, the months pass without so much as a wave hello or goodbye. Summers were long and luxurious when I was a kid. Now, I blink and seasons have passed.

But not these last two months. No. I have felt the full 1,440 hours of these two months. Not each hour bad. Certainly not all of them good. But it seems as if every hour has meant something. And somehow, these two months feel like they may have been a decade in and of themselves.

Today marks two months since my Grandmother slipped away to spend all eternity with her Forever Love. And today, that moment is as fresh in my heart as it can possibly be, regardless of each hour that has passed in between.

I sat this week and listened to the words she wanted all her family to hear and believe about her walk through cancer. Words she recorded just seven days before she passed away. She told us she, "found out His Word is true. He will keep me. I have no fear. He will carry me through this end." How gracious is our God? And what a treasure to have these words, these memories, to keep and to cherish. They sometimes cause phantom pains; where that which you ache over feels present, but it is gone.

I have wondered why our Christian world seems so uncomfortable with "death". We much prefer, "went home to be with Jesus", "passed away", "graduated to Heaven", "promoted to glory". As if our faith will be shaken because something "bad" has happened so we endeavor to make it sound as "good" as possible.

While all of these things may have happened for my grandmother, before she experienced that, there was a very real, finite moment. A moment when she died. Death is swallowed up by life in Christ. Death is a whole new birth. But death is. It is. It may be a gateway - but it is.

I sat with my sister just before Gramma passed. As she struggled so for breath and the minutes felt like days, I told Lisa it felt like labor before childbirth. Like we were in the delivery room suffering through the hardest part before new life could be embraced. She labored and struggled and then, release came. And with it, life.

But it doesn't negate the pain. And while I'm sure that pain is such a distant memory for my grandmother, it isn't for me. I didn't "graduate", or get "promoted" to Heaven. For me...she died. She is gone. For me, she is no more. Not right now.

"Precious in the sight of the Lord is the death of His saints." Because it means "together". It means no longer do we imagine Him and all the expressions on His face. Or what it might feel like for Him to embrace us. That death is as precious for Him as the moment of birth is for us. We've imagined this child. We feel so close to them as they grow in the womb. But then...finally...we see them. Our arms hold them. Our hands wipe their tears. We are "together".

My grandmother has been experiencing that togetherness. But the rest of us "groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies" (Romans 8:23). This is why the Spirit intercedes for us. We cannot even express the depth of our longing to be close to Jesus. We groan. We wait eagerly. We experience pain as we are separated from loved ones. We have pangs of hunger and desperation as we await our Hope.

But we have this Hope. And, today, I'm grateful I don't have to grieve without Him. I tell Him all I know how and, beyond that, the Spirit within me makes my heart known. And, soon, I will see Him.

But not yet. Now, there is much to be done...

I Feel it in the Atmosphere...

God does such profound things in our lives. I'm grateful for constant evidence of His leadership of and involvement in my journey. In these past few weeks, it feels like everything has shifted. Ever have a moment like that? It's like you wake up and somehow, you've got new eyes. You're looking at the very same things but seeing things you never noticed before...

That "shift" is part of the deal when we surrender our lives to Jesus. As the "Author" of your faith, He's takes creative liberty to throw twists and turns in the story whenever He sees fit. Such an incredible adventure! Any other path must be so very dull.

I really believe that being sensitive to even the smallest tweaks and turns from the Holy Spirit is an irreplaceable part of Christian living. Those "small" adjustments can have immense implications, just a the slight shift of the rudder on a boat can change its course entirely.

Part of the shift right now for me is simply a new level of surrender. Maybe a little more than a year ago, Molly Buccafurni shared the letter below with our congregation. Such truth in these words. Heavy truth; but truth that has come back up in my heart these past few weeks as I've asked, "What am I really willing to do?"

If God is speaking to you about small changes (or even big ones) take courage, friend! Step out! He will not leave you without support!

THE HIGH CALLING

If God has called you to be really like Jesus in all your spirit, He will draw you into a life of crucifixion and humility, and put on you such demands of obedience, that He will not allow you to follow other Christians, and in many ways He will seem to let other good people do things which He will not let you do.

Other Christians and ministers who seem very religious and useful may push themselves, pull wires, and work schemes to carry out their plans, but you cannot do it; and if you attempt it, you will meet with such failure and rebuke from the Lord as to make you sorely penitent.

Others can brag on themselves, on their work, on their success, on their writing, but the Holy Spirit will not allow you to do any such thing, and if you begin it, He will lead you into some deep mortification that will make you despise all your good works.

Others will be allowed to succeed in making great sums of money, or having a legacy left to them or in having luxuries, but God may supply you daily, because he wants you to have something far better than gold, and that is a helpless dependence on Him, that He may have the privilege of providing your needs day by day out of the unseen treasury.

The Lord may let others be honored and put forward, and keep you hid away in obscurity, because He wants to produce some choice fragrant fruit for His coming glory, which can only be produced in the shade.

God will let others be great, but keep you small. He will let others do a work for Him, and get the credit for it, but he will make you work and toil on without knowing how much you are doing; and then, to make your work still more precious, He will let others get the credit for the work which you have done, and this will make your reward ten times greater when Jesus comes.

The Holy Spirit will put a strict watch on you, with a jealous love, and will rebuke you for little words or feelings or for wasting your time, which other Christians never seem distressed over. So make up your mind that God is an infinite Sovereign, and has a right to do as he pleases with his own, and He will not explain to you a thousand things which may puzzle your reason in His dealings with you.

God will take you at your word; and if you absolutely sell yourself to be His slave, He will wrap you up in a jealous love and let other people say and do many things that you cannot do or say.

Settle it forever, that you are to deal directly with the Holy Spirit, and that He is to have the privilege of tying your tongue, or chaining your hand, or closing your eyes, in ways that others are not dealt with.

Now, when you are so possessed with the living God that you are, in your secret heart, pleased and delighted over this peculiar, personal, private, jealous guardianship and management of the Holy Spirit over your life, you will have found the vestibule of Heaven.

No matter what scales we use, we can never know the weight of another person’s burdens.

Given to Molly Buccafurni by a missionary – 1986.

"Feel Good" File

By the very wise admonition of a former boss, Pastor Chris Daniel, I keep a file in my desk at work that's called my "Feel Good" file. It's full of notes, cards, pictures, sermon notes that inspired me...whatever might be a pick-me-up for a rough day/week/month...year. Yesterday it was imperative - I had to bust out the feel good file. It'd been months since I perused it, which always makes for great surprises and warm tinglies.

I found childhood pictures. Notes from old college friends. Birthday cards. Quotes that re-inspired me. It was a good moment. And it reminded me how very important a little encouragement can be.

None of these little notes had a check for a thousand dollars in it. None of them came with a gift. They weren't flashy or neon or unforgettable. In fact, most of them I had forgotten about. Encouragement is a lot like that. Easy to forget. Even the greatest moments of comfort and encouragement from the Lord can be washed away by troubles if we allow it.

Words have always been so important to me. I forget birthday gifts. But the cards? I'll keep forever and read over and over and over. So I've made it a habit to keep words of encouragement and comfort before me. In my home, on my desk, through the music in my car. And, in moments like these past few weeks, those words from God and from others, have made ALL the difference.

Want to encourage somebody? Do it! Whatever it is may sound insignificant in the moment, but the "feel good" file (whether mental or literal) can be referenced in the most necessary of times.

Thank you to my "Barnabas" friends...

"I don't know what to do."

I recently perused the book "Eat, Pray, Love" and Liz Gilbert's straight-talk in the memoir was moving. I am a firm believer that anyone who is honest and sincere in their search for God deserves our attention. And Liz represents thousands of people seeking God and, instead, finding "god" or "Buddha" or "Allah" or "themselves".

A portion of the beginning of her story really affected me. She writes about being in the middle of a difficult situation and she finds herself on the bathroom floor, sobbing, when she decides to pray. "God, I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do. I'll do it. Please. Just tell me what to do..." and then, she listens.

She really didn't know to Whom she was speaking. But her rock-bottom transparency and honesty are a hallmark of real searching. And she heard an answer; though I believe she attributed it to the wrong person. But discrepancies aside, this part of her story felt far too familiar for me to ignore.

As a believer in Christ, I find myself quite often in a puddle of my own tears saying, "God, I don't know what to do. Please. Tell me what to do. Please, tell me what to do." And He is faithful to lead me. Even if I simply walk forward quietly and blindly, just following His whisper.

The key is, I must come to Him and admit that I don't know what to do. When I've pressed on every door. Tried to pry open every window. Pounded on every wall for a soft spot that I could possibly break through. And...nothing. I glance around the room half a dozen more times. "Perhaps the solution is right in front of me and I'm missing it." But, nothing. So finally, my hands drop to my side and I look up..."I don't know what to do..."

When I was in elementary school, a teacher sent a note home with me for my parents. This was never to tell them you were bright or exceptional or something else favorable. And I was nervous. I had never brought one of these home before! I racked my brain; what had I done?! Did I talk too much? Not work quickly enough? Didn't pay attention to some rule?

I got home and handed the note to my mom. "What's it say mom? What did I do?" "Well, Amanda. It says, "Amanda needs to learn to ask for help when she finds a problem she can't solve. She refuses to ask for help"."

I'm not going to say that note changed my life. I'll still carry a dozen Wal Mart bags up to my apartment by myself. I'll still take care of myself when I'm sick. I'll still find my own solutions before I consult anyone. Before I consult...Anyone.

I remember a lady showing up at my Gramma's door a few days after she'd gone to be with Jesus. She talked about having come to Gramma's house because she, "didn't know what to do. I didn't know where to go. My mom said, 'Just go see Ora Mae,' and so I came to see Ora Mae." She had knocked on the door with confidence that this lady could do something about her situation. Maybe she pictured Mrs. Clause. Or some fairy godmother doling out the goods. Or maybe just a sympathetic and kind woman who would find some way to help her. Whatever the case, she felt like an answer was behind the door.

Bottom line? This woman had more faith that a total stranger could help her than I sometimes have that God can help me. She got desperate and, "being a burden" or "admitting helplessness" weren't obstacles for her any longer.

That's how I knock on the door today. Today, I just sit and whisper, "Jesus, I don't know what to do", and wait...

commitment crisis.

So...remember a few weeks back when I said I was going to start raising questions? And some of these questions might be a little uncomfortable or seem combative? (Well, if I left out that last part, I'm saying it now.) I've been asking this question for a long time...

"What is the deal with those in the 18-30 age range and commitment?"

Now look, before I launch into this let me say that I do believe I work with some incredible young adults. And, I do believe that most of them are ahead of the pack and shouldn't be lumped in with a 'culture of convenience'. They work full-time jobs. Or they're full-time students. And they find time to serve at this church one or five nights a week. They lead small groups. Lead worship. Lead youth. Lead events. And they're like the sunset - consistent.

However, I have been alarmed by the trends of church-hopping and consumeristic worship among this age group. If "I don't get something out of it, it's not for me". I am relieved to find that many people are becoming aware of the crisis of commitment. Those responsible, self-motivated, handle-my-own-life sort of young adults are a minority right now. And they live in a culture that bathes them in consumerism, individualism and entitlement. One student, when asked what church he attended, said, "I attend church in my bedroom. I put on worship music and sing along to that and then I listen to a podcast sermon." Couldn't be more contradictory to what the Biblical Church should be.

Many are avoiding life decisions using perpetual schooling or "learning" experiences: "I don't know what I want to do with my life so I think I'll travel for a while." "I can't pay rent until I find a job I really, really like. I'll just stay with mom and dad." "I can't decide I want to marry you until I know our relationship will be fool-proof. Let's just move in together for a while."

(Disclaimer: there's nothing wrong with travel. Or education. Or multi-generational homes. Relax...)

Young adults are crazy about community. They love being together and they yearn for closeness and partners for their life journey. But so many fail to realize community cannot really exist apart from commitment. And neither can true intimacy or fulfillment in relationships.

So how do we teach faithfulness and commitment in a culture where both are unnecessary and cumbersome? The Church has always been God's channel of hope, power and truth to the world. And she has stood counter-culturally through the ages. But how does she teach truth and lead people toward Jesus when they're too busy (or self-focused) to really hear any message?

Adventures in Leftovers...

Yesterday was a great day. Until...it became a very, very bad day. If you've ever had food poisoning, you know it's a bad day like none other.

Every once in a while in our office, we do our best to be good stewards by packing lunches and bringing leftovers (often, our lives are too "on the fly" to be so prepared :). But yesterday was one of those days. We had leftover turkey from an event on Friday and so Pastor Sheri, Kristin and I decided we'd make some sandwiches and have a quick lunch together in the church kitchen. Great idea...for a moment.

We finished lunch and later, I headed to the polls to cast my vote (and ensure job security - but that's for another blog). When I returned, I found my generally poised and prepared "Pastorette" slumped in her office chair and holding her stomach. It was clear things were not going her way (refer to the link above for her account of the day). I started grabbing things off her desk and stuffing them in her briefcase between, "No...I have too much to do..." and "I think that may have been the last of it...".

We managed to get her to the car but she insisted on driving herself (Pastor Frank was working the polls and I would be the only office personnel; someone had to get some work done around here!) A while (what felt like a very loooong while) later, she arrived home and let me know she was safely embracing her very own porcelain friend.

I called Kristin, "Hey, I know you have a dentist appointment. But you may want to nix that and head home. Your mom's like, super sick and I can't leave the office."

"Oh no! Ok, going home now. I'll call her on my way."

I went back to my desk, trying to get a a mailout to the box before 4. "Eww," I thought, "I'm pretty queasy..." But I dismissed it as sympathy sickness and kept working. Eyes watering, stomach groaning and pain mounting, "This is serious sympathy sickness". Until, I was propelled out of my office chair and food poisoning was confirmed. I tried to finish what I could between episodes and finally called Kristin and said, "Girl. You better get ready. I'm sick now too...and this stuff is violent..."

"Nooo....I thought I didn't feel good but I'm trying to just breathe..." Kristin said. I could hear the dread in her voice.

I drove myself home, barely making it up my stairs and in the door. I created my own "yuck-bucket" and got myself to bed where the violence continued. I text Kristin, "Are you still ok?" "No," she answered, "I'm on the side of the road but Dad's here." Awesome. All three of us. Sick, in various locations.

I laid in my bed and felt, with each experience, that my ribs might crack or maybe my eyes would burst out of their sockets. And then, a knock came on my door. Meagan, my frister and Pastor's youngest daughter, said, "Come on. Dad said to bring you to the house with mom and Kristin." It was a looooong drive. But at least now I was in good company.

We spent our evening together, sprawled from one end of the house to the other with Pastor Frank and Meagan changing out buckets and helping us from bathroom to couch. The house was relatively silent between groans and other sounds (of which I'll spare you description). It was a great time of bonding. I'm hoping we scrapbook it sometime.

Today, we're achy and sore but not running to the bathroom...so I think we're all pretty grateful for that fact. And...I'm hungry.

Back to "Reality"

One of my very favorite things about blogging is that it gives a space to be more honest than you might in face-to-face communication. When I try to have these sort of conversations (like I'm about to have with you) in person, there are a very few people that I don't feel I've accosted and they would almost rather hear anything else!

But you, friends, take initiative to find this page and then, furthermore, take time to read it! A blessing beyond my imagination! And that is something that makes me comfortable to tell you how I really feel. I'm telling you how I feel today 1) as a method of catharsis 2) because it helps us know one another (even if we've never met) and 3) in the hopes that something I say may benefit you in your own personal journey.

Today is Wednesday. Twenty-one days ago at this time was a very hard day. For some reason, each step since then has grown more difficult and more burdened - a scenario I did not expect after hearing all the "time heals all wounds" talk.

Here I am, back in my reality, but being "present" feels more impossible than roping in the moon. Last week, as my plane took off from Phoenix International, my heart was more overwhelmed than perhaps ever before. It was the most final moment of this whole process for me. The realization that I will never fly back into the desert and see my grandmother.

Arizona has always meant "Gramma Ora" to me. And, with my family living there, I'll visit quite frequently. Which I am happy to do. But each visit from that moment of departure will be very, very different. That knowledge overtook me as the engined revved and there was no turning back: no more sitting in her room for a while, no more touching the things on her dresser, no more being in her "space" even with her gone. No, this was the real "goodbye". (I'm sure the girl in the seat beside me wondered if I had severe anxiety issues about flying when I broke out sobbing.)

God's presence is the sweetest gift I could ever ask for. C.S. Lewis said of the death of his wife that her absence was "like the sky, spread all over everything". And, while that rings so true for me right now, I am walking through "everything" with my hand in His. And I'm so thankful He understands every, little bit. Every fleeting thought, every memory, every sadness for what was and even for what was not. All of it.

We got a letter from a precious family friend who reminded us of how well Gramma always listened. He'd call her and say, "Got time for dinner?" And she'd meet him and listen to whatever he needed to say. We're all going to miss that so much...

Thanks for "listening"...

"I Got Next"

This has been burning in my heart for a few months. Many times it's come to the forefront of my mind and I've desired to share it with you, friends. And I'm excited because I know today's the day!

"I got next!"

A little over a year ago, when Roosevelt Hunter passed away, my heart was deeply affected. I remember a message he preached when I was 16 at youth camp. He talked about the "PIT" or "Prophet in Training". It stuck with me...and will stick with me forever. In fact, Roosevelt's passion and zeal for Christ have invaded my soul in a quite permanent way. A burning desire to reach the lost. To preach the Word. To be ready in season, out of season. And to be obedient whatever the season.


Roosevelt and Eileen originated a phrase which the Holy Spirit planted firmly in my heart, "I got next!". The Hunters' burden has been to inspire and pour into my generation. They knew the baton would eventually be passed from theirs to ours and they challenged us: when the time comes, rise up and say, "I got next!". When the generations before us have run their race, catch the baton and RUN! Run and don't look back!


Several months ago, I began to feel a surging in my spirit. An anticipation. As my grandmother grew sicker and weaker, I grew stronger and more determined. I looked upon her feats in life, her undeterred confidence, her resiliency, the fact that she seemed to "Take no rest and give God no rest". And as the time was approaching that she would rest from her work, I became keenly aware that my work had just started. Though our paths are quite different, the gait, the posture, the determination is the same.


As I sat beside her and our time together drew to a close, I was singing "Tis So Sweet," and "Peace, Peace". I could feel the power of the Holy Spirit in my own life in a brand new way. And, though right before my eyes a mountain was falling into the heart of the sea, it was a fact: I had no fear. More than that! I had a great sense of peace, resolve and deep, deep encouragement. "I got next!"


I've been clinging to Psalm 46 and Isaiah 6 through this time. Isaiah 6 begins with Isaiah's commission. He says, "In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord..."

When the King (the leader, the one who brought confidence and inspired dreams) died, Isaiah saw the Lord.


In Psalm 46, David says, "God is our very present help in time of trouble...therefore, we will not fear though the earth give way, though the mountains fall into the sea and the waters roar and foam with their surging".


"Uzziah" may have died. A mountain may have fallen into the heart of the sea. And now, I walk through grief. I deal with waters surging and receding over my heart, beckoning me into sorrow to which I will inevitably give way from time to time. And, as C.S. Lewis says, "Spread over everything in my life is a vauge sense of wrongness. As if something is amiss." (And, I might add, may always be). Even though these things are true...


I see the Lord. I hear Him more clearly than I feel I ever have. I feel Him more closely than I thought possible. I sing and dance and praise in the desert, for one of the sweetest things in life is to find that He truly is all you need. And the moment in which the faith you have spent your life believing was real surely holds you firm. For me, a defining moment. Is my faith made of the stuff I had hoped? Far more! Is my God true in the things He has said? Beyond measure! Is there a message burning in my spirit that the world must hear? You bet!

"I got NEXT!"