Scary prayers

Have you ever caught yourself in the middle of praying something only to realize that you are praying the scariest prayer of your life?
Yeah?
Well I've caught myself mid sentence of some pretty awful prayers lately. The one that scares me the most happened about an hour ago.
Inviting Jesus into the depths of the closet of my heart. Opening the "junk drawer" of my heart wide and saying "Here, Jesus, Come and dig around. Clean it out. Do what you will with the items you find."

This is where I panic.

Ummm..... did I leave it in the drawer... or is it shoved under the bed?
I really hope he doesn't find THAT THING in the closet... that would be painful.
Oops, I haven't dug through that drawer in a while... I'm kind of scared of what I might remember if I let him dig around.

Then I begin to try to rewind my prayer...

No, Jesus, You see, you don't want to go in that closet...it's kinda dusty... your allergies might act up... *cough*
Jesus, you don't have time to go through the drawer, I understand... there are other things we need to sort though... like what the heck am I supposed to be doing with the next five years of my life.... yeah, that's the important stuff.
PLEASE JESUS, It's too painful for me to let you go through that closet... the things I have shoved in there hurt too much... I know you don't want to inflict harm on me right!!!????

But it's too late...

With His tender hands and loving eyes He looks right at me, almost like He is looking deep in me, He holds up an item.
I cringe as the memory floods back to me.
Tears begin to flow.
Jesus, I can explain that...
Jesus, I don't want to let that memory go.
Jesus, please, it hurts too badly to remember.
Jesus, no.

He takes out a stamp
Across that item, He stamps the most beautiful thing.
Paid for.

He reaches back in the drawer and pulls out another item.
He writes.
Redeemed.

And another.
Freed.

Again.
Healed.

The next one.
Restored.

One by one.
He stamps His name across my filth.
Across my sin.
Across the things that have wounded me.
Across the things that I am ashamed of.

I created this one to soar.


All that hold me are paper chains. The lock is broken. The door is open. Jesus, teach me how to fly.

Taking the Fall

I don’t want to write this blog post. I don’t want to be this real. I don’t want you to know what I am dealing with. I don't want to. Because I don't want to, I know I need to. So give me grace as you read this, friend. Cause I know I need grace. Desperately. 

The past several months have been filled with huge victories for me. I have experienced freedom and healing and life in a way that I had never known possible. I can't even begin to express to you how much freedom I have experienced. Deep parts of my heart have been exposed and Truth has won. Love has won. Love is winning. Truth is winning. 

But.

Somewhere along the journey...

I let pride take hold.
I decided that I could do it on my own.
I decided that I could say no to sin on my own.
I decided that I could say no to bad attitudes, bitterness, and fear on my own.

False.

I decided that I didn't have to be vulnerable with sisters in my life.
I decided that I didn't need to confess the little things...
After all, there was grace.

False again.

God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble.

There is nothing humble about where I have been the past couple weeks.

Nothing.

Nothing graceful about it either.

I have been bitter, offended, offensive, rude, unlovely, pushed people away who were trying to love me. I have done everything I can to prove that I should be rejected. I have tried to convince people that I was doing well, when really I was struggling. I have tried to find healing in things that bring no healing. I have tried to find freedom in things that only wrap me in bondage.

I have kicked and screamed and fought and ran and threw a big tantrum just because I didn't want to let a sister in. I was angry that she cared enough to ask the hard questions.
I didn't think I was deserving of that.
It pissed me off that she is so young and so wise and loved so deeply.

Ouch. That one hurt to admit.

I could go on to tell how pride comes before the fall...
But the fall isn't as important as the getting back up.

What did I learn in the fall?

I desperately need sisters in my life who will be honest with me.
I desperately need sisters to help me keep myself in check.
I can't do life alone.
Even more.
I DESPERATELY need God's word and presence in my life.
I cannot say no to temptation without Him.
I cannot forgive others without Him.
I cannot be humble without Him.

Ultimately, I am accountable TO Jesus.
But.
I am accountable WITH sisters in my life.

I am so thankful that I have women who are willing to do life with me. I am so blessed.
I told someone that she was the thorn in my side to help keep me humble.
But she is so much more than that.
She is my saucy friend. She is my partner in antagonizing a mutual friend. She is my Friday hangout buddy.
She is my sister.
And I get to do life with her.

Jesus, You are the perfect example of one who is humble. You took on the body of a human. You took on the form of a servant. You took on my sin. You took on my filth. Because You love me. Because You wanted me. Give me grace to walk humbly with my God. Give me grace to follow Your example.

TIme to be real

‎"We're all walking around with these glossy eyes. 'I'm just tired,' we say. But you know what? It's bullshit. Yes, we are tired, but it's not all from lack of sleep. We are tired of waking up with nothing to look forward to, tired of going to bed exhausted after doing a million things we find no enjoyment in doing. We're tired of this void, this emptiness that looms over us even though our days are packed. We're tired of the loneliness that presses down on us even though we're surrounded by dozens of people. So why can't we just say it? Humans are so afraid to look into each other's eyes and say, 'I am unhappy, I am broken, I am hopeless and fallible.' We've been conditioned to associate pain with weakness, sadness with coldness, loneliness with unworthiness, difference with disease, as if these feelings are contagious, as if ambivalence is something not to be felt but to be feared. Well, I say screw all of that. Screw forced smiles and polite handshakes and I'm fine, thank yous. Screw the fear of crying in a public place, screw the fake chipper voice, screw the lies we spit out to cover up our problems. We are humans. We are meant to feel. To feel everything and to feel it all openly. We are not metal—we are flesh and bone. Our boild blood courses through our cold, clammy hands. We are intricate and beautiful and we should never hide our human parts, because if we do, then what's left to show?" -So Worth Loving