Sometimes, the words are as simple as the message...


For we do not have a high priest who cannot sympathize with our weaknesses, but One who has been tempted in all things as we are, yet without sin. Hebrews 4:15

Trust. In Perfect Love. Everlasting, Real, and True.

-There is only one true love for me... You.

-Believe in Truth.

-His blood... for you...

-Hold on tight... don't let me go...

I promised...

After three days of staying awake and thinking and plotting and planning and dreaming and scheming, my brain has turned to mush. Not the non-functioning sort of mush, but the too much activity and not enough REM's equaling to a forth-coming short-circuiting just kinda-dead sorta mush. You know the story.

I have been thinking about transparency and prayer and focusing and being disciplined and guarded and kneeling and surrendering and TRUTH and AGAPE. A lot of thinking... and a lot of questions. And even better, some really exciting answers.

My church in Texas, Crossroads, is doing this thing called Prayer 168... 168 hours of prayer. Focused, driven, devoted, on-your-knees, or flat-on-your-face, crying out to Abba, real deal prayer. There are prayer stations for all kinds of prayer - for the nations, the prodigals, the lost, the families, the church, the city, the state, the government, the ministries and missions, the children, the youth, the everything pretty much. And my favorite - the private prayers where whatever you and God have to sort out just gets hashed out and totally worked through. I want to do this... or something like that. I will write more about this later... still processing.

I love that tired feeling you have when you are contentedly exhausted and you are just ready to sink into the pillows and the down comforter and let the waves of whatever subconscious thoughts carry you away to dreamland. The one that I do not enjoy was the one that I experienced this morning... that worn out spiritually, physically, emotionally, mentally and just totally defeated tired. God was really amazing today to change my fatigue into just a pleasant sort of sleepiness. He was close today. I texted a friend this morning and told him that all I wanted was my journal, a huge hug, and a soft blanket. I still want the same things but the defeat has passed.

My God is the VICTOR... think about that... it is already over. There are no judges out trying to decide the case or replays over the match to see who got in the final blow. It was decided before any of it ever began and He wins. And man... that gives strength. So much. He wins.

There are a lot of things going on here right now. I have a lot of friends who are going through S.T.U.F.F. just lots of stuff... and most of it hurts and leaves us broken for them and praying and asking God why things change and get messed up and just in pain for our friends.

BUT... I read verses in Hebrews. Chapter one. And it says that He holds the universe together. HE HOLDS IT ALL... think about it. Not only does He count the hairs on our heads, watch every sparrow, catch every falling tear, change the weather, paint every sunset and sunrise, control all of time and space, create every living thing, AND continue to give it life, but He also stays in control of every situation and WILL always work all of it out for His good.

All of our stuff... somehow, He still makes beauty from ashes, strength from fear, and joy from sorrow. Praise.

.... those moments....

when you feel artistic and romantic and like writing, but there are no words that seem to work...
when the sound of Amy Lee and Evanescence and the piano caressing your ears is all that appeals to your sense of hearing...
and when a soft blanket, and yesterday's makeup, and hair down, and black t-shirts, with black comfy pants, and your favorite knit sweater make you feel beautiful...
when a journal and a pen are more natural than sleep or breathing even though you have absolutely nothing of value to say...
where there is too much and too little at the same time and words just don't cut it but somehow the song writers make millions and you just sit stuck...
when you are thinking about too many things and nothing at all and you can't grasp a single thought to create something of coherent intelligence...
when giggles and laughter and tears and pain and joy and sorrow and prayers and rants and promises and lies and hurt and abuse and release and rescue and beauty and truth and authenticity and God and faith and desire are all just a little too much and only the surface of your thoughts...
when sleep is not good enough but staying up no longer helps and fatigue sets in, but in less than two hours, insomnia fights...
when one plus one no longer equals two...

There are so many words and lyrics and phrases and verses and the words are running through my mind so fast with the letters jumbled and in various sizes of print and fonts and colors and meanings and emotions and places and sounds and smells and memories and ideas and thoughts.

And my brain is overloaded and my stupid idealistic romantic side wants to write it all out, but the problem is that you can't make sense of nonsensical musings and poetry doesn't form from nothing but from something... a single thought or feeling that you can finally grasp a-hold of and cling to and get to obey long enough to create something simple and beautiful. But I can't grab hold of any of them... they move too quickly and there are too many and using most of them would be plagiarism anyway. You can't take other people's lines... they are for sharing but not for using. Like reusing an engagement ring, it is just wrong on the inside.


And the friend sits crying and I don't have any words for her, so I just type "listening" so that she knows that I am still there and I sit and do exactly that because I can't do anything else. Trapped by the words floating all over space in my mind's eye and the pain that she conveys and the lack of ability to express my own thoughtful ideas and whatever small encouragement that I may have.


You understand... they want what God wants. They want to mend. They want to not be broken. But being broken is good because it means growing and growing is good because it is what God wants. But it hurts and no one ever wants to hurt. And the words just don't come... not even a verse.

There are never enough words. And sometimes, there are too many.




Silence...

So dense...


I just had the thought that in a world where we demand for everything to be instant and at our fingertips... you would think that a faith that provides total, complete, and instant forgiveness of sin and immediate promise of eternity in Heaven with God - well, it sounds like it should be right up our alley? Right... ? I guess I don't really understand why we are so blind to the only instant thing that can actually satisfy...

Because it is work? After the promise, you realize "oh crap! This requires my life to change...damn." But hello, sunshine, guess what? Something that I have been long in learning... that change is for our better. For my better. Dear one, why are you so lazy? Do you really have nothing better to do with your time? Allow the One who rescued you to help you to grow.

He promised you eternity. Can you not offer Him even this one night? Think about it, love.

I love the words to this song - All That I Can Say, by David Crowder Band
Lord I'm tired
So tired from walking
And Lord I'm so alone
And Lord the dark
Is creeping in
Creeping up
To swallow me
I think I'll stop
Rest here a while

And didn't You see me cry'n?
And didn't You hear me call Your name?
Wasn't it You I gave my heart to?
I wish You'd remember
Where you sat it down

Chorus:
And this is all that I can say right now
i know it's not much
And this is all that I can give
yeah that's my everything

Bridge:
I didn't notice You were standing here
I didn't know that
That was You holding me
I didn't notice You were cry'n too
I didn't know that
That was You washing my feet


I often feel that way... that I really don't have much to say except that I need You. I need Your arms and I need Your help and I need to see You and feel You and know You are there. And I need to see past me. Usually, seeing past me is the biggest problem. How on earth do I get so big... take up so much space, that I can't see beyond me, myself, and I? That what You are just kind of disappears... until You sit me down and show me something far bigger... far greater... and far more worthy of attention. And then... I end up consumed by how small I am... again, coming back to me. Notice the pattern here? Feeling a little tired of it.

And didn't You see me cry'n?
And didn't You hear me call Your name?
Wasn't it You I gave my heart to?
I wish You'd remember
Where you sat it down

but...

I didn't notice You were standing here
I didn't know that
That was You holding me
I didn't notice You were cry'n too
I didn't know that
That was You washing my feet


You are worthy. Teach me to pay attention. And all of those little needs end up taken care of naturally when I sit and listen to Your Word wash over, cleaning my head, my hands, and my heart.

What does it mean to be authentic? To be real? Candid, honest, open... What does it mean to have integrity? How closely connected are these concepts - to be authentic and to have integrity?
In my mind, it has always been that you cannot have one without the other.

I have a lot of experience with masks. I spent a huge part of my life wearing them - all painted perfectly to show the face that my superiors or peers wanted to see. I tried to please everyone. I tried to hide behind the masks and show a smile at all times because I knew that no one likes to see the tears or the snot on your face or the vomit in the toliet or hear the cries in the night. No one enjoys that stuff... so why show it? Seriously, why show what breaks my heart when no one really needs to know anyway? They can't fix it. Right?

But then... well, something big happened. SOMEONE happened, actually. Someone who taught me that it is ok to not be ok. It is ok to be sick, to hurt, to cry, to scream, to have a mess. To be a mess. It is ok to ask for help. And it is ok to show those parts of yourself. The trick, is allowing the ones who see the reality to also be there for you - helping you gain the strength, the courage to step out of that reality into what God has for you... into something that is somehow, less broken, less painful, and less messy... until gradually, you look around the now clean room and wonder what the hell happened to all the stuff you had tossed about or carefully stored away. It is all swept out, packed up, dumped in the trash, and new things are in their place... and you realize, damn, this is so much better... why didn't I go to Him before?

He taught me that it is ok to not be alright and it is ok to hurt and it is ok to talk about it and to show people. And that as long as the people I am showing are solidly built on His foundation, they will be able to help me through. And love. And discipline. And care enough to dig deeper and be the body that pulls you out of that muck and quick sand.

It is ok to not be ok. It is not ok to stay that way. And it is not ok to hide behind your mask saying it is all fine when your eyes betray your lies. It is not ok to pretend away the pain of life and push aside the brothers and sisters who care enough to reach out and listen.

I was drawn to LeTourneau because for the first time in my life, when someone asked me how I was doing, they stopped. They turned. And they looked me in the eye and they listened. I froze. I did not know how to respond. What? You mean... you want an answer to that question? You must be joking. No one actually wants to know how you are. They just ask to be polite. At least in my world. Until that point. I learned something new there... I learned to only ask if I mean it. And I learned to expect a candid response... something real - where the eyes and the actions and the words all line up to convey reality and not a story.

I am tired of masquerade balls. I am tired of pretty faces. I am tired of smiles that only reach halfway. I am ready to meet some eyes. Ready to see some hearts. And ready to share mine...