Enter

Unworthy. Unloved. Wretched. Disgusted.

Words that stacked like bricks within the spaces of my soul. 

Words that were heavy, and made imprints on the exterior of my heart, sinking into the depths of my inner being.

Words that placed Berlin walls around the peaceful territories that I ached to experience.

Words that exploded and removed the traces of love and forgiveness that once soothed the pains that racked my body.

Words that formed deteriorating thoughts and flooded my mind to the point where church, a place that holds the presence of Christ, seemed like a space that would shut the doors at my attempt to enter.

A space that would shudder at the sin, shame, and guilt I carried on the back of my small frame.

But yet, those words, those thoughts were no form of intimidation for the space that held the presence of God.

That space was the magnet that my sin, shame, and guilt were attracted to. A magnet that pulled and tugged at the impurities that clung to my soul and begged for release. Begged to carry the weight that brought me low.

And all I had to do was enter with open heart.

Enter and allow the blood of Christ to cleanse, to wipe, to heal, to restore, and to remind. Remind me that I, that you, that we are daughters of Christ.

Enter into the presence of Christ, and see the hands of my Savior crumble bricked stacked words, reversing the imprint that signaled that I was the only force that could remove the sin, shame, and guilt that I was buried within.

Enter into the presence of Christ and watch forgiveness and love flood the wells of my soul.

Enter and be pulled into the embrace of the one who created me, the one who cherishes me, the one who sees the depths of me and craves me just as I am.

Enter dear sister. Enter.

Enter in into the walls of the church. Not just on Sundays but every day you breathe in the breath of life. Every moment you blink and set your eyes on the beauties of God’s creation.

Enter and allow Christ to enter the walls of your soul. The place he wants to make a home.

Enter beloved. He’s waiting.

#walkworthy

Some Days Are like This

So I came to this coffee shop to write. To release the words that are deep within my soul, but all I can think about is the cold that is slapping me in the face and finding its way up my pants leg.
 I thought coffee shops were supposed to be warm and cozy… a place where you settle in and let your mind dance amongst the aromas that linger overhead. This coffee shop lacks all of that, but Ill do what I came here to do: write. A tradition that releases the anxiety that is seemingly always trapped within my bones.

There is something beneath the surface; something that is begging to be unearthed, but I don’t understand what it is. I want it to be released as bad as it does; for the clutter to be disposed of so that Christ can enter in its place. I want to release it all so I can climb higher on the mountain.  Right now it seems as if I’m at the base, looking up with longing eyes to be back where I was… back in the comfort of his presence. Some days are like this. Where it seems like his presence is absent, and I’m just walking in the dark…lonely…desperately wanting to be held by my savior.

Is it a heart issue? Has my deceitful heart swollen?  Filling up the space where God once settled in.

Have I pushed him out through my actions or is he still there, silent waiting for what I might do? I don’t know, but I will fight. I will fight for his presence and remain in his word even though it seems like I’m fighting for something that I’ll never see.

But ill fight anyway - Ill ask for him to puncture my heart to release the dirt, grime and filth that has infected an organ vital for Godly living. I’ll ask him to remove the haughtiness that sends me soaring above others, and teach me to be humble. I’ll ask that he remove everything that I turn to for pleasure, and insert his Word in those places. Ill ask that he help me to die to my life, my ways, and desires so that I may be a vessel for him to use.  I’ll ask that he remove me, so that I may be transformed into a reflection of him. I’ll ask him to dig me deeper into his word; a process that will remove the fleshly power, exposing a spirit submitted to Christ. I’ll ask him to remove the heavy thought that I will arrive here on earth and replace it with an eagerness to experience that in eternity.

Ill fight and press in his word, lift my voice up to him through prayer, and examine his character through his Word.

Some days are like this.

Where the cold smacks me in the face with such a force that I’m tempted to get up and leave, leave my progress for the comfort of what I have always known. Ending up in the same place that I have always been. But today is different; this season is different.

Through the cold I’ll fight, through the cold I’ll push, through the cold I’ll pray, I’ll read, I’ll study, I’ll write, I’ll do whatever it takes to grow and scale that mountain because I know on the other side of that cold is something that I could never imagine.

Same days are like this & I’m thankful because God is pushing me to grow and mature into the beautiful young woman he has created me to be.

So I stand with you sister, in those moments where it seems as though you are in darkness and Christ seems absent. In those moments where your heart aches to be brought deeper into the presence of God, but it seems impossible, because there is nothing pushing you. There is nothing welling up within your spirit pressing you to read, pray, or study.  

God is there –he’s so faithful- he just wants you to take those steps and ascend to another level. So sisters push and speak his word into your soul.

“Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God; for I shall again praise him, my salvation, and my God.”

Psalm 42: 5

An Unpacking of Sorts

And it happens. The weekend comes to a close and I feel as though I have gotten nothing accomplished. The workweek is about to commence and I have sluggishly wiggled around my to-do list. And here I sit unsatisfied as I look back over the two days I had to myself. Where does it go, I wonder as I sit here and unpack the anxiousness crammed in my soul.

I travel back to Friday where I anticipated a weekend full of accomplishments: articles written, quiet time with God spent, and body rested. But I sit here in a Sunday with empty spaces where check marks should have been. Now with no energy to cook dinner, prepare for Monday, or move from this spot. I find myself here often, in a place that I never intended to be. Frustrated and disgusted with myself because I’ve got nothing to show with this weekend.

I mean how does life work? How am I suppose to spend time with family, work on my hobby, grow my talents, spend time in the word, and rest? Prioritization comes to mind but isn’t all the above important? Shouldn’t it all fit nice and neatly in my week only slightly caressing my weekend, instead of having to cram meetings, appointments, and to-dos into a fleeting 48 hours.  Oh yea and what about laundry.

I mean how does life work? What should it look like? I feel like a marble in a pinball machine being flung from one side to another; having quick reactions, and no true commitments, before I’m off to the next task. Always on the go never able to soak in the moment because time is a factor.

Time; it never stops, except for at work…I think they have some sort of time warp thing installed, who knows. But time, I’m always checking, always counting time spent. Whether I’m at work, on lunch, driving home, cooking dinner, washing my hair, time always accumulates and I always collect it. Collecting it to seemingly place it in the wrong space, causing my gag reflexes to trigger every time a minute is thrown into the abyss of my unprioritized day. There’s that word again, I mean how does it work?

It’s frustrating. I mean how does one meal plan, exercise, eat healthy, go to work, develop a ministry, spend time with God, study the word, and rest? I look up and things have gone unnoticed and slipped in the cracks of yesterday, never to be seen until the deadline smacks me in the face.

I’m trying and it seems when I try the most I fail, and that’s when I feel like giving up. I mean honestly I’m like what’s the point?

But something urges me to keep going, to keep trying, to find my flow in the midst of discord I hear in my eardrums. Something deep within reminds me that I wont get it all right, and it may take a while to find my flow. A flow that will change as I journey throughout the Mondays, Sundays, and all the days in between. But will always be found in the passionate heartbeat of Yahweh. Yahweh who reminds me that HE IS so I don’t have to be.  Yahweh who yearns for me to release so that he can Be. Be first in my life, second and last. So that he can remind me that it wont always look like I envisioned but will work out as long as I allow him to be Yahweh in my life. As long as I remain in his love and obey the sound of his voice he’ll send his strength to my thirsty soul.

A soul that must stay connected in order to see straight and not get lost amongst the details of each passing day.  Connection is key; that is what he speaks to me. Connection to the source who has it all figured out, and all I have to do is release and trust.

So here I am leaning on the support of my Father; starting blindly into a week I know nothing of, but trust that Yahweh is standing in each day, as he is standing with me right now.