Things happening in my world right now would include a lot of self-examination and self-realization, which I do not particularly love. It’s such a drag to discover that you are worse than you originally thought. I like to think of myself as a very self aware human being, but apparently I am a never ending pit of crazy and so there is always more to learn. One of the primary ways God is teaching me is by putting me in vulnerable situations where I have to face my insecurities head on. This I hate. Another more gentle approach is by letting my littlest sister speak directly into my life.
Some days I feel like my thoughts are a pre-school classroom. There’s paste and glue everywhere and its snack time and the kids are pulling each other’s hair and screaming at the top of their lungs and the shy kid just wet himself and is running down the hallway pants-less. These are the perks of being me.
There are two “learned-about-myself” issues to be noted here.
First, I have a chronic need to verbalize what is in my head because my thoughts get trapped up there and then are subsequently twisted and usually over exaggerated. Generally speaking, my mind’s inner voice is debilitating and accusatory - much more offensive than I would ever be.
Secondly (and this makes it fun) - I am IN EVERY WAY an auditory learner, which means that I cannot rationally or realistically understand any subject matter whatsoever without hearing it.
The problem is that I need to get my thoughts out of the captivity of my head but am unable to process them unless I HEAR MYSELF say them out loud. The bigger and more pressing problem is that I need someone to sit with me and be a soundboard for this deafening progression. Lucky (read: unfortunately) for Brittney, she is the usual go-to.
Only after verbally processing through how I “feel” can I finally HEAR myself and sort through what is true and what is absolutely NOT true or idiotic even. Brittney laughs because I legitimately do not know what I think until I have said it. It’s reversed from how normal, less insane people function and handle things. I enter these conversations, usually irrationally and emotionally, and completely blind to how they end. Here is an important place to mention the absolute suckfest it is to be overly dramatic by nature.
By the time I have finished my monologue, I usually have come to a pretty logical conclusion on my own; able to trade what I feel for what I know. The fact that this happens is because Jesus is still in the miracle business. It is certainly how Olympians must feel when they win gold by default because the projected winner blew it. These are identical scenarios. Just when you think its over and all is lost - BOOM - it isn't. At that time, after all the talking, I ask Brittney for her opinion because I actually need to hear her say that I am not a hopeless case. And SOMETIMES I even actually want her advice.
The verbal processing, it saves me. It saves me despite the fact that it's not my favorite thing about myself. I wish that I could skip the vulnerability altogether and that truths could just magically assemble themselves internally. But alas, that is not the case with me.
I am SO trying to show myself radical grace in the thick of my own defeat, because how dare I rob my transformed heart of the mercy Jesus won for me already. I am trying to celebrate that although it’s a messy journey and I’d much prefer a different route, I do get there. I do finally believe Jesus in the end, and the truth transforms me. I am trying to laugh in the heat of my verbal battle with myself; to accept that this too is a gift. Laughter is a small victory for me and deserves recognition, because there is always something worthy to rejoice over if we are brave enough to live like that.
As God is continuing to reveal vulnerable parts of myself to me, I want to call forth everything good, brave, and merciful about his creative design of me and let grace fill in all the cracks and spaces.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Monday, February 17, 2014
Right Now
I didn't sleep at all last week. Some fresh desperation meets you on the third night in a row that you've stared 3AM in the face. Anyone who knows anything about me knows how important sleep is to my personal well being and sanity. Last week, though, sleep evaded me.
In light of my insomnia, I took advantage of being awake alone in the watches of the night to spend some time with the God who doesn't sleep. That is the only comfort to be found at that hour, by the way. For some reason God wanted my attention last week, when there was no one and nothing to distract me besides the quiet sound of my fan and Brittney's deep rhythmic breathing.
I've always known life was funny, but sometimes it sneaks up on me and gives me something I didn't even know I wanted. And I have always planned for my life to be an adventure, a thing to be celebrated and experienced fully, but it is still surprising when all my little moments turn into days and months stringing together the story that God has written for me. Right now, today, my life is exploding with energy and power and detail and dimension and a lot of laughter. I have stories worth telling, memories worth remembering, and dreams worth walking towards.
This season, for me, is full of newness and joy but also a heavy realization of my desperation for Jesus and a fresh awareness of the tear in my soul that only He fills. On one hand, this season is like childhood all over again, so full of life and potential and possibility. My days often look like trips to play in the park or jumping on trampolines or running as fast as I can. And on the other hand, these same days are marked with a seriousness about my pursuit of God amidst it all. It seems like the Lord is constantly reminding me that my heart absolutely refuses to fulfilled by anything other than Him. He knows of my deep tendency to forsake Him for his gifts. How loving it is for him to demand my attention, even at 3AM - that I might not fall captive to the lie that anything is better than God.
John Piper says it like this: “Devote yourself with all your mind, all your heart, and all your strength to pursuing your joy and satisfaction in God. Keep pursuing the enlargement and the intensification and the deepening of your joy so hard, that that joy in Christ can be shaken by no pain, and can be COMPETED WITH BY NO PLEASURE. That’s our goal. God is most glorified in you, when you are most satisfied in Him."
Being in a relationship is very much like having a magnifying glass up to everything that you hate about yourself. My whole life I've caught myself expecting someone to say or do something that will quiet my ache for intimacy just outside my experiential realm. I have often spent valuable time in friendships holding my breath and hoping that when people get close enough they wont leave; fearing that it's only a matter of time before they figure me out and go. I've wanted some experience, some adventure, some person to fulfill the yearning that only an infinite God is capable of. It is the biggest lie that I have believed and the most crippling struggle that haunts my past. Yet, today, God is frankly forbidding it - and I am so grateful - but it feels a lot like getting disciplined and being told "no" a lot which thankfully leads me to search for the "yes" found only at the cross.
Change is one of God's greatest gifts, and most useful tools for sanctification in my life. I forget that. It pushes and pulls me, rebukes and remakes me, moves me across the country and back. God has used monumental change in the last 6 months to show me who I have become, in all the best ways and all the worst ways. I want to press in, to not run away, to breathe in the joy that I get to walk in right now. To celebrate and dance and laugh hard and play the music loud with the windows down, and squeeze all the life out of right now. Because its worth it and because I know it won't always be this way. Today is such a good gift and I want to operate in that reality.
But although my todays are often glowing and bright and supple and rich, they are not without the rooted grounding of the truth that God's approval of me in Christ allows me to enjoy each minute fully. I want to never lose sight of the God who is my supreme happiness. Only one love meets all loves, is all love, and fulfills all love. However, I want God, like Shauna Niequist says "to be glad He gave life to someone who loves the gift." Ah, to drink deeply of the fullness, the failure, and the feelings of this season stretching on before me right now.
In light of my insomnia, I took advantage of being awake alone in the watches of the night to spend some time with the God who doesn't sleep. That is the only comfort to be found at that hour, by the way. For some reason God wanted my attention last week, when there was no one and nothing to distract me besides the quiet sound of my fan and Brittney's deep rhythmic breathing.
I've always known life was funny, but sometimes it sneaks up on me and gives me something I didn't even know I wanted. And I have always planned for my life to be an adventure, a thing to be celebrated and experienced fully, but it is still surprising when all my little moments turn into days and months stringing together the story that God has written for me. Right now, today, my life is exploding with energy and power and detail and dimension and a lot of laughter. I have stories worth telling, memories worth remembering, and dreams worth walking towards.
This season, for me, is full of newness and joy but also a heavy realization of my desperation for Jesus and a fresh awareness of the tear in my soul that only He fills. On one hand, this season is like childhood all over again, so full of life and potential and possibility. My days often look like trips to play in the park or jumping on trampolines or running as fast as I can. And on the other hand, these same days are marked with a seriousness about my pursuit of God amidst it all. It seems like the Lord is constantly reminding me that my heart absolutely refuses to fulfilled by anything other than Him. He knows of my deep tendency to forsake Him for his gifts. How loving it is for him to demand my attention, even at 3AM - that I might not fall captive to the lie that anything is better than God.
John Piper says it like this: “Devote yourself with all your mind, all your heart, and all your strength to pursuing your joy and satisfaction in God. Keep pursuing the enlargement and the intensification and the deepening of your joy so hard, that that joy in Christ can be shaken by no pain, and can be COMPETED WITH BY NO PLEASURE. That’s our goal. God is most glorified in you, when you are most satisfied in Him."
Being in a relationship is very much like having a magnifying glass up to everything that you hate about yourself. My whole life I've caught myself expecting someone to say or do something that will quiet my ache for intimacy just outside my experiential realm. I have often spent valuable time in friendships holding my breath and hoping that when people get close enough they wont leave; fearing that it's only a matter of time before they figure me out and go. I've wanted some experience, some adventure, some person to fulfill the yearning that only an infinite God is capable of. It is the biggest lie that I have believed and the most crippling struggle that haunts my past. Yet, today, God is frankly forbidding it - and I am so grateful - but it feels a lot like getting disciplined and being told "no" a lot which thankfully leads me to search for the "yes" found only at the cross.
Change is one of God's greatest gifts, and most useful tools for sanctification in my life. I forget that. It pushes and pulls me, rebukes and remakes me, moves me across the country and back. God has used monumental change in the last 6 months to show me who I have become, in all the best ways and all the worst ways. I want to press in, to not run away, to breathe in the joy that I get to walk in right now. To celebrate and dance and laugh hard and play the music loud with the windows down, and squeeze all the life out of right now. Because its worth it and because I know it won't always be this way. Today is such a good gift and I want to operate in that reality.
But although my todays are often glowing and bright and supple and rich, they are not without the rooted grounding of the truth that God's approval of me in Christ allows me to enjoy each minute fully. I want to never lose sight of the God who is my supreme happiness. Only one love meets all loves, is all love, and fulfills all love. However, I want God, like Shauna Niequist says "to be glad He gave life to someone who loves the gift." Ah, to drink deeply of the fullness, the failure, and the feelings of this season stretching on before me right now.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Dallas
Its been 2 months since God called me out of what I thought was the rest of my life. The exodus was violent and painful and my eyes hurt from crying. Everything I had built my post-college life around lived and breathed in Denver, Colorado and I truly wrestled like Israel with the call to leave. Denver was MY dream, MY plan, MY adventure. It was everything I could have ever wanted for myself. And yet, God has called me higher.
Not to be (too) dramatic, but the morning that I departed Colorado for Texas I read a letter from Bethany and layed on the floor of my empty room and then I cried in the shower. I packed my life of adventure into a tiny used car with high mileage, and I drove away from all my plans; my only hope in Jesus. Sometimes God wrings worship from my heart. He wraps his eternally powerful, ultimately creative, nail-scarred hands around my heart and squeezes with appropriate might, as Lauren Chandler would say it. She goes on:
"It is a deep worship. It is an honest worship. It is the worship we sometimes forget. The humble worship of crying out to God in the midst of our pain. No flowery words. No shiny faces. Not in that moment. That will come later. But for now, this is the worship He seeks - an honest plea for Him to save us."
You know, I wish I could tell you that joy has been overflowing after the obedience. Like some kind of magical if/then word problem. What I truly feel though is that God is stripping me down to my core. No mountains. No independence. No real opportunity to sin, and responsibility far more than I am capable of succeeding in. I am seen and known in my weakness and it is not pretty. I am not put together, primped, or good at much of anything outside of the grace of God. The painful work of self examination has left me defeated, depressed, and crying in the shower more than usual. The dark night of the soul finds me sweating as I settle my new life in Dallas, Texas.
And then shockingly, out of nowhere, grace shows up like the first blossom of spring after a long winter. A cool morning. A green place in the midst of concrete. A dinner with Becca. A poolside book. God shows up with mercy and grace. And real, deep JOY. Joy that isn't laughter. Joy that presents itself as deep gratitude for the one who loves me enough to perform surgery on my broken heart. The cut is deep, but the sovereign surgeon is careful and precise as he wounds me in order that I MIGHT TRULY LIVE. The joy presents itself in muted tones, but still, it is there.
Through it all, I feel so loved by the God of the Universe. How gracious and loving is it for him to press me, to mold me, to chisel away the idolatry from my heart. My sin disease is shocking and deep, but Jesus - my sweet Jesus - adores me in a way that he will not allow my little plans to ruin what he has already orchestrated for me and put into motion. He knows and He is enough. He is good and He is gracious. He is worth every tear, every hardship, and every day that I lack the mountains. Jesus is worth it. Eternally, but also now. And worship is sometimes that much sweeter in the dark.
"But THIS I call to mind, and THEREFORE I have hope. The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning; GREAT is your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in Him.'" -Lamentations 3:22-24
Not to be (too) dramatic, but the morning that I departed Colorado for Texas I read a letter from Bethany and layed on the floor of my empty room and then I cried in the shower. I packed my life of adventure into a tiny used car with high mileage, and I drove away from all my plans; my only hope in Jesus. Sometimes God wrings worship from my heart. He wraps his eternally powerful, ultimately creative, nail-scarred hands around my heart and squeezes with appropriate might, as Lauren Chandler would say it. She goes on:
"It is a deep worship. It is an honest worship. It is the worship we sometimes forget. The humble worship of crying out to God in the midst of our pain. No flowery words. No shiny faces. Not in that moment. That will come later. But for now, this is the worship He seeks - an honest plea for Him to save us."
You know, I wish I could tell you that joy has been overflowing after the obedience. Like some kind of magical if/then word problem. What I truly feel though is that God is stripping me down to my core. No mountains. No independence. No real opportunity to sin, and responsibility far more than I am capable of succeeding in. I am seen and known in my weakness and it is not pretty. I am not put together, primped, or good at much of anything outside of the grace of God. The painful work of self examination has left me defeated, depressed, and crying in the shower more than usual. The dark night of the soul finds me sweating as I settle my new life in Dallas, Texas.
And then shockingly, out of nowhere, grace shows up like the first blossom of spring after a long winter. A cool morning. A green place in the midst of concrete. A dinner with Becca. A poolside book. God shows up with mercy and grace. And real, deep JOY. Joy that isn't laughter. Joy that presents itself as deep gratitude for the one who loves me enough to perform surgery on my broken heart. The cut is deep, but the sovereign surgeon is careful and precise as he wounds me in order that I MIGHT TRULY LIVE. The joy presents itself in muted tones, but still, it is there.
Through it all, I feel so loved by the God of the Universe. How gracious and loving is it for him to press me, to mold me, to chisel away the idolatry from my heart. My sin disease is shocking and deep, but Jesus - my sweet Jesus - adores me in a way that he will not allow my little plans to ruin what he has already orchestrated for me and put into motion. He knows and He is enough. He is good and He is gracious. He is worth every tear, every hardship, and every day that I lack the mountains. Jesus is worth it. Eternally, but also now. And worship is sometimes that much sweeter in the dark.
"But THIS I call to mind, and THEREFORE I have hope. The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning; GREAT is your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion' says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in Him.'" -Lamentations 3:22-24
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Showing Up
"In essence, there is only one thing God asks of us - that we be men and women of prayer, people who live close to God, people for whom God is everything and for whom God is enough. That is the root of peace. We have that peace when the gracious God is all we seek. When we start seeking something besides Him, we lose it. That is his call to us, simply to be people who are content to live close to him and to renew the kind of life in which the closeness is felt and experienced." -B.M.
Tonight as I type, I am wounded and sick, woefully distanced from my first love. I am dizzy, out of breath and exhausted spiritually. Also a little apathetic. I feel far away and disconnected, and this by my own doing. I feel happy, but the kind of giggly happy that has no depth. I spent hours tonight talking with and apologizing to Bethany (which has become pretty standard in our friendship), and hugging her as I realized how far I have strayed this week. Amidst the chaos of my life, it is still amazing to me how fast I can become so fascinatingly out of control. Especially while knowing that God is always the answer and the way to everything that I truly want / need at my deepest soul level.
I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes. Everything gets to be too much, and I can't breathe. Waking up tomorrow seems exhausting the way running on a treadmill does, and getting out of bed is difficult enough in the first place. It sometimes gets hard for me to believe that we are all part of some bigger, less punishing and isolated truth. I frequently get caught up in the "what you see is what you get" here and now. I get caught up in the finite and forget the infinite. I catch myself swirling around, drowning in the worries of this world while completely ignorant to the things of God. All too often I end the days just as broken and frustrated and wholly insane as the day before and it gets a little mechanical and traumatizing. Augustine says that "You have to start your relationship with God all over from the beginning, every day. Yesterday's faith does not wait for you. You seek it, and in seeking, you find it." And so I get up in the mornings, clinging to the hope that I have in Jesus.
I honestly do not know why God wont just spritz away our hardships, problems, insecurities and frustrations. I don't know why the most we can hope for on some days is to end up a little less crazy than before, less down on ourselves. I don't know why we have to become so vulnerable before we can connect with God, and even sometimes with ourselves. But with the same token, I don't understand how my room gets so messy within a matter of minutes.
I'm guessing that God's answer would be something along the lines of the idea that the journey is somehow producing in us a desperation and need for Him. I have a friend who is always harping on the importance and beauty of the journey regardless of the end goal, something about how the hike is far better than reaching the top of the mountain. I don't even know if I agree, but maybe somehow the journey is allowing us to see facets of God's character and grace that we wouldn't otherwise get to experience if we were sane all the time. And this idea that I am so magnificently adored despite how ridiculous and immature I always am has the power to cripple me in wonder and praise. Enough that the journey somehow seems worth it all.
So tonight, I did the most radical thing I could think of. I showed up and I prayed. Begrudgingly. I cleared my schedule and spent time with the one who made me and loves me. And to the shock of no one, I, in response, got the peace that I had been searching for in everything else under the sun. When this finally happens for me, my return to the Lord, I am always astonished. It always comes right after I totally give up on myself, and it is there in that glorious defeat that I find the strength to wake up again, drenched in the love and mercy of Jesus. It is then that I realize that my deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done absolutely nothing to earn it or deserve it.
The whole thing is just mind blowing. And awe inspiring. And crazy. Which makes me feel not so out of place.
Tonight as I type, I am wounded and sick, woefully distanced from my first love. I am dizzy, out of breath and exhausted spiritually. Also a little apathetic. I feel far away and disconnected, and this by my own doing. I feel happy, but the kind of giggly happy that has no depth. I spent hours tonight talking with and apologizing to Bethany (which has become pretty standard in our friendship), and hugging her as I realized how far I have strayed this week. Amidst the chaos of my life, it is still amazing to me how fast I can become so fascinatingly out of control. Especially while knowing that God is always the answer and the way to everything that I truly want / need at my deepest soul level.
I don't know what's wrong with me sometimes. Everything gets to be too much, and I can't breathe. Waking up tomorrow seems exhausting the way running on a treadmill does, and getting out of bed is difficult enough in the first place. It sometimes gets hard for me to believe that we are all part of some bigger, less punishing and isolated truth. I frequently get caught up in the "what you see is what you get" here and now. I get caught up in the finite and forget the infinite. I catch myself swirling around, drowning in the worries of this world while completely ignorant to the things of God. All too often I end the days just as broken and frustrated and wholly insane as the day before and it gets a little mechanical and traumatizing. Augustine says that "You have to start your relationship with God all over from the beginning, every day. Yesterday's faith does not wait for you. You seek it, and in seeking, you find it." And so I get up in the mornings, clinging to the hope that I have in Jesus.
I honestly do not know why God wont just spritz away our hardships, problems, insecurities and frustrations. I don't know why the most we can hope for on some days is to end up a little less crazy than before, less down on ourselves. I don't know why we have to become so vulnerable before we can connect with God, and even sometimes with ourselves. But with the same token, I don't understand how my room gets so messy within a matter of minutes.
I'm guessing that God's answer would be something along the lines of the idea that the journey is somehow producing in us a desperation and need for Him. I have a friend who is always harping on the importance and beauty of the journey regardless of the end goal, something about how the hike is far better than reaching the top of the mountain. I don't even know if I agree, but maybe somehow the journey is allowing us to see facets of God's character and grace that we wouldn't otherwise get to experience if we were sane all the time. And this idea that I am so magnificently adored despite how ridiculous and immature I always am has the power to cripple me in wonder and praise. Enough that the journey somehow seems worth it all.
So tonight, I did the most radical thing I could think of. I showed up and I prayed. Begrudgingly. I cleared my schedule and spent time with the one who made me and loves me. And to the shock of no one, I, in response, got the peace that I had been searching for in everything else under the sun. When this finally happens for me, my return to the Lord, I am always astonished. It always comes right after I totally give up on myself, and it is there in that glorious defeat that I find the strength to wake up again, drenched in the love and mercy of Jesus. It is then that I realize that my deepest awareness of myself is that I am deeply loved by Jesus Christ and I have done absolutely nothing to earn it or deserve it.
The whole thing is just mind blowing. And awe inspiring. And crazy. Which makes me feel not so out of place.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Come To Me
"Weary, burdened wanderer
There is rest for thee
At the feet of Jesus,
In his love, so free
Listen to His message
Words of life, forever blest
Oh, thou heavy-laden
Come to me, come and rest
There is freedom, taste and see
Hear the call, come to me
Run into His arms of grace
Your burden carried, He will take
Bring Him all thy burdens
All thy guilt and sin
Mercy's door is open
Rise up, and enter in
There is freedom, taste and see
Hear the call, come to me
Run into His arms of grace
Your burden carried, He will take
Jesus, there is waiting
Paitently for thee
Hear Him, gently calling
Come all, come to me
Come oh, come to me
Wont you come?"
- "Come to Me" by The Village Church (feat. Lauren Chandler)
ITS 2013! And today, Jesus bids us to come to him, on a day where so much newness gives us tiny glimpses of hope. Of something better, even if only for a minute. He bids us to join him on a journey towards being transformed by the renewal of our minds. He bids us to focus our thoughts and life on Him. He bids that we give ourselves fully to the adventure of increasing attentiveness of His presence. This year. Today.
I usually stay away from New Years Resolutions because I am the person that gives up on Week 1. And more than anything I hate disappointing myself. Seems like the ultimate low to make lofty goals of grandeur and then fail miserably at them. If I could sum up what I would ahem, resolute, this year..it would be that I in general "suck less." (as my friend Kallyn says.) My flesh screams that I can fix the brokenness in me, the lonliness and the sin nature that keeps me running back to that which will not satisfy. Suck less, Allyson. Pull it together. Eat healthy, work out, dont say cuss words. Rules which I break as often as I keep. My feeble attempts at holiness and goodness fall so very short.
Instead of this game of pass and fail, my prayer this year, for 2013, is like that of Jesus. I pray that I can run to God and not away from him even when I feel completely unworthy of him and essentially useless as a human being. My prayer is that I would experience more of His holy presence and that in seeing more of Him, I would not think of myself as much but that I would have eyes to see and ears to see as He does. That I would practice thinking more highly of God, that I would trust in his sovereignty and goodness and delight in his truth.
Anne Lamott says that "If I were going to begin practicing the presence of God for the first time today, it would help to begin by admitting the three most terrible truths of our existence: that we are so ruined, and so loved, and in charge of so little."
And she is right. We are hopeless outside of Jesus, and this Jesus is unimaginably in love with us, wanting us, bidding us "Come." So instead of me buckling down and trying to be all that I feel I am supposed to be, I pray "help." I have run out of good ideas on how to fix the unfixable, so I have decided to finally stop trying to heal my own sick stressed mind, with my own sick stressed mind.
There is rest for thee
At the feet of Jesus,
In his love, so free
Listen to His message
Words of life, forever blest
Oh, thou heavy-laden
Come to me, come and rest
There is freedom, taste and see
Hear the call, come to me
Run into His arms of grace
Your burden carried, He will take
Bring Him all thy burdens
All thy guilt and sin
Mercy's door is open
Rise up, and enter in
There is freedom, taste and see
Hear the call, come to me
Run into His arms of grace
Your burden carried, He will take
Jesus, there is waiting
Paitently for thee
Hear Him, gently calling
Come all, come to me
Come oh, come to me
Wont you come?"
- "Come to Me" by The Village Church (feat. Lauren Chandler)
ITS 2013! And today, Jesus bids us to come to him, on a day where so much newness gives us tiny glimpses of hope. Of something better, even if only for a minute. He bids us to join him on a journey towards being transformed by the renewal of our minds. He bids us to focus our thoughts and life on Him. He bids that we give ourselves fully to the adventure of increasing attentiveness of His presence. This year. Today.
I usually stay away from New Years Resolutions because I am the person that gives up on Week 1. And more than anything I hate disappointing myself. Seems like the ultimate low to make lofty goals of grandeur and then fail miserably at them. If I could sum up what I would ahem, resolute, this year..it would be that I in general "suck less." (as my friend Kallyn says.) My flesh screams that I can fix the brokenness in me, the lonliness and the sin nature that keeps me running back to that which will not satisfy. Suck less, Allyson. Pull it together. Eat healthy, work out, dont say cuss words. Rules which I break as often as I keep. My feeble attempts at holiness and goodness fall so very short.
Instead of this game of pass and fail, my prayer this year, for 2013, is like that of Jesus. I pray that I can run to God and not away from him even when I feel completely unworthy of him and essentially useless as a human being. My prayer is that I would experience more of His holy presence and that in seeing more of Him, I would not think of myself as much but that I would have eyes to see and ears to see as He does. That I would practice thinking more highly of God, that I would trust in his sovereignty and goodness and delight in his truth.
Anne Lamott says that "If I were going to begin practicing the presence of God for the first time today, it would help to begin by admitting the three most terrible truths of our existence: that we are so ruined, and so loved, and in charge of so little."
And she is right. We are hopeless outside of Jesus, and this Jesus is unimaginably in love with us, wanting us, bidding us "Come." So instead of me buckling down and trying to be all that I feel I am supposed to be, I pray "help." I have run out of good ideas on how to fix the unfixable, so I have decided to finally stop trying to heal my own sick stressed mind, with my own sick stressed mind.
These prayers remind me that I am not in charge, that I cannot fix anything, and that I open myself to being helped by something, or someone. These prayers acknowledge that I am clueless, but that God isn’t. It means I stop trying to figure it out, because trying to figure it out is exhausting and crazy-making.
Lamott says "When we cry out for Help, or whisper it into our chests, we enter the paradox of not going limp and not feeling so hopeless that we can barely walk, and we release ourselves from the absolute craziness of trying to be our own—or other people’s—higher powers. We can be freed from a damaging insistence on forward thrust, from a commitment to running wildly down a convenient path that might actually be taking us deeper into the dark forest. Praying “help”means that we ask that something give us the courage to stop in our tracks, right where we are, and turn our fixation away from the Gordian knot of our problems. We stop the toxic peering and instead turn our eyes to something else."
So welcome 2013, may this year be one of prayer, steadfastness, trust, and and increasing knowledge of the glory of God. May it be a year of love, adventure, hope, wellness, and peace. May my eyes and focus always be set on who God is and not who I am. May his glory result in my joy, and may I serve and honor him in a way that is worthy of who He is. To him be the glory, here, and in the years to come forever and ever amen.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Come Let Us Return To The Lord
Come, let us return to the Lord. He has torn us to pieces, but he will heal us; he has injured us, but he will bind up our wounds. After two days he will revive us; on the third day he will restore us that we might live in his presence. Let us acknowledge the Lord; let us press on to acknowledge him. As surely as the sun rises, he will appear; he will come to us like the winter rains, like the spring rains that water the earth.” -Hosea 6:1-3
Currently, I am sitting in my beautiful office, with a view of the mountains and the majestic towers of Valor listening to a calming Bon Iver. I live with my 2nd family, I have my dream job, and all thanks and glory to the God who ordained it. This was not my own doing, but as it stands, I am well acquainted with comfort.
And yet…surrounding me and engulfing my mind is sadness, discomfort, and hurt. I ache for those less fortunate than me, and my heart rages against the injustice. Why God? How much longer will you let this go on? This weekend has left me feeling numb…then totally not numb, angry and hopeless. An elementary school? The horror. And yet, so many children all over the world experience trauma just as devastating every day. How can this happen? How have we have gotten so far from Christ? I am shaking my head in disbelief.
I am urged to do something about it; to stop this madness. To scream at God, and tell him that we can’t do this anymore and that he needs to come get us. We can’t do it, IT'S TIME JESUS! I want to cry and tell him to make it all stop. I want out. The pain is insurmountable, and the hurt is unbearable. Hearts are absolutely breaking all over the world. One of my favorite authors says it perfectly: “It’s all I can do. I’ve reached my threshold. I am begging for morning, praying for the dawn. I am truly in a season of Advent, waiting. Jesus, when are you going to come and make all things new? When will you redeem these losses and heal this land? When will children be safe? When are you coming? We are waiting, a groaning earth. We are aliens and strangers, reaching toward the kingdom, gasping. The hope torch is so heavy.
My only answer in the face of all this madness is Jesus. I literally have no other words, no better narrative. I believe Him. Just like He came the first time, in the margins, and the earth received her King, I know He is still here, ruling the world with truth and grace. I know He cares and He sees and He will be found. I know He is the light of the world, even though the night is so dark, so pitch black.”
Despite all of my longing and lofty ideas of how to redeem all of this, I cannot even fix myself…much less the rest of the world. I find myself helpless and broken at the feet of a holy God. I am part of this problem in the first place. I am reminded that, in itself, moral failure is not our biggest problem. Instead, the most hideous problem in the world is a failure to see God for who He really is. We get really messed up when we dont know who God is...and what He thinks of us.
My flesh and the enemy speak out that God must be perpetually displeased and disappointed with my feeble attempts at obedience. And yet, in the bible I find something totally and utterly different. Astoundingly different. GRACE. God’s mercy to sinners is not calculated and careful, it is lavish and outrageous.
It is baffling to me that after years of following this Jesus, who loves me with such persistence that it sometimes makes my head spin, that I can still lose sight of the offer he makes every day, every hour. The gospel that says “it is finished” and “come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.” I forget all too often. I forget that the gospel is for Christians; for me. That it was at my worst that Christ died for me. How is that possible? Outrageous grace, unending love; it makes no sense.
Yet, it’s true. It is true in the highest sense. Ephesians says:
“As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. BUT BECAUSE OF HIS GREAT LOVE FOR US, GOD, WHO IS RICH IN MERCY, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”
God is so frustrating and awe-inspiring. The whole concept is just absolutely ludicrous. Undeserving acceptance, unrequited love, unending mercy and grace. This rails against everything that seems true. Today though, I choose to believe it. Because it is our only hope.
An oh, do I feel the weight of my inability to make my heart completely submissive to Him. This morning, I am pleading with Jesus for a heart that loves Him rightly, claiming the blood of Jesus to cover my constant and overwhelming shortcomings. I feel this holy discontentment for where my life is, and where I want it to be. I want more of Him. More of the joy and peace that he offers. So with my failures and anger and confusion and frustration and tear-filled rage blackouts, I find myself re-reading Hosea 6. “Come let us return to the Lord…”
And so I will.
Currently, I am sitting in my beautiful office, with a view of the mountains and the majestic towers of Valor listening to a calming Bon Iver. I live with my 2nd family, I have my dream job, and all thanks and glory to the God who ordained it. This was not my own doing, but as it stands, I am well acquainted with comfort.
And yet…surrounding me and engulfing my mind is sadness, discomfort, and hurt. I ache for those less fortunate than me, and my heart rages against the injustice. Why God? How much longer will you let this go on? This weekend has left me feeling numb…then totally not numb, angry and hopeless. An elementary school? The horror. And yet, so many children all over the world experience trauma just as devastating every day. How can this happen? How have we have gotten so far from Christ? I am shaking my head in disbelief.
I am urged to do something about it; to stop this madness. To scream at God, and tell him that we can’t do this anymore and that he needs to come get us. We can’t do it, IT'S TIME JESUS! I want to cry and tell him to make it all stop. I want out. The pain is insurmountable, and the hurt is unbearable. Hearts are absolutely breaking all over the world. One of my favorite authors says it perfectly: “It’s all I can do. I’ve reached my threshold. I am begging for morning, praying for the dawn. I am truly in a season of Advent, waiting. Jesus, when are you going to come and make all things new? When will you redeem these losses and heal this land? When will children be safe? When are you coming? We are waiting, a groaning earth. We are aliens and strangers, reaching toward the kingdom, gasping. The hope torch is so heavy.
My only answer in the face of all this madness is Jesus. I literally have no other words, no better narrative. I believe Him. Just like He came the first time, in the margins, and the earth received her King, I know He is still here, ruling the world with truth and grace. I know He cares and He sees and He will be found. I know He is the light of the world, even though the night is so dark, so pitch black.”
Despite all of my longing and lofty ideas of how to redeem all of this, I cannot even fix myself…much less the rest of the world. I find myself helpless and broken at the feet of a holy God. I am part of this problem in the first place. I am reminded that, in itself, moral failure is not our biggest problem. Instead, the most hideous problem in the world is a failure to see God for who He really is. We get really messed up when we dont know who God is...and what He thinks of us.
My flesh and the enemy speak out that God must be perpetually displeased and disappointed with my feeble attempts at obedience. And yet, in the bible I find something totally and utterly different. Astoundingly different. GRACE. God’s mercy to sinners is not calculated and careful, it is lavish and outrageous.
It is baffling to me that after years of following this Jesus, who loves me with such persistence that it sometimes makes my head spin, that I can still lose sight of the offer he makes every day, every hour. The gospel that says “it is finished” and “come to me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.” I forget all too often. I forget that the gospel is for Christians; for me. That it was at my worst that Christ died for me. How is that possible? Outrageous grace, unending love; it makes no sense.
Yet, it’s true. It is true in the highest sense. Ephesians says:
“As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, gratifying the cravings of our flesh and following its desires and thoughts. Like the rest, we were by nature deserving of wrath. BUT BECAUSE OF HIS GREAT LOVE FOR US, GOD, WHO IS RICH IN MERCY, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”
God is so frustrating and awe-inspiring. The whole concept is just absolutely ludicrous. Undeserving acceptance, unrequited love, unending mercy and grace. This rails against everything that seems true. Today though, I choose to believe it. Because it is our only hope.
An oh, do I feel the weight of my inability to make my heart completely submissive to Him. This morning, I am pleading with Jesus for a heart that loves Him rightly, claiming the blood of Jesus to cover my constant and overwhelming shortcomings. I feel this holy discontentment for where my life is, and where I want it to be. I want more of Him. More of the joy and peace that he offers. So with my failures and anger and confusion and frustration and tear-filled rage blackouts, I find myself re-reading Hosea 6. “Come let us return to the Lord…”
And so I will.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Come Ye Sinners
Come ye sinners, poor and needy
Weak and wounded, sick and sore
Jesus ready, stands to save you
Full of pity, love and power
Come ye thirsty, come and welcome
God's free bounty glorify
True belief and true repentance
And every grace that brings you nigh
Come ye weary, heavy laden
Lost and ruined by the fall
If you tarry until you're better
You will never come at all
I will arise and go to Jesus
He will embrace me in his arms
And in the arms of my dear Savior
There are 10,000 charms
Weak and wounded, sick and sore
Jesus ready, stands to save you
Full of pity, love and power
Come ye thirsty, come and welcome
God's free bounty glorify
True belief and true repentance
And every grace that brings you nigh
Come ye weary, heavy laden
Lost and ruined by the fall
If you tarry until you're better
You will never come at all
I will arise and go to Jesus
He will embrace me in his arms
And in the arms of my dear Savior
There are 10,000 charms
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