sympathy pains

Empathy is interpreted as the ability to take oneself out of oneself and put oneself into another person's world. It is understanding another person's feelings by remembering or imagining being in a similar situation. It is understanding, being aware of, and being sensitive to the feelings, thoughts, and experience of another without actually sharing the feelings or emotions of another.

Last night a friend called me on her way to a service project where she'd be feeding the homeless and during our conversation she asked me if I had ever done that before. I told her about my experience and about how it had been a blessing to me but at the same time that it had been difficult for me because of the emotions it had evoked in my spirit. I loved meeting the different people there on the street corner. I loved hearing their stories. I felt valuable to them in a small way as I handed them a can of lemon-lime soda or a sandwich. My heart went out to their children as I knelt to play with them on the concrete. But by the time I got home, there was a part of me that was so heartbroken for them in their need that I wanted to sell everything in my possession and actually do something more significant than handing them a sandwich with a smile.

I am one of those people who feels the pain of others, both emotionally and physically. When somebody talks about scoliosis, my back hurts. When I hear about cracked ribs, my sides ache. When a friend feels broken-hearted, my heart feels broken as well. When someone I love has a death in their family, I want to wrap my arms around them and sob with them in their loss. I even feel nauseous sometimes when loved ones are arguing with one another. I easily slip out of my own shoes and into the shoes of those whom I hold dear.

All of this empathy poses a problem sometimes. I find it extremely difficult to walk the halls of a hospital because each occupied bed that I pass calls out to me. I often have to go outside for a few minutes just to escape the silent cries and breathe a deep breath in prayer. There are times when I have to fight the urge to carry the burdens of my family or friends upon my own shoulders rather than entrusting them to God as I know I should.

According to the dictionary, the word empathy is frequently used in connection with the creator of a work of art. When I first read that, I thought not of a creator, but of the Creator. I pictured in my mind Jesus Christ...God in the form of man. The infinite, all-powerful God loved us so much that He came to earth in the form of a perishable man. Jesus experienced all of the pain, sorrow, and suffering any of us ever have or ever will go through. He knows our pain and sympathizes with us because He felt it first Himself.

Just imagine...any time we are in pain, whether it be emotional or physical, Jesus Christ is standing right there beside us. He stands with His nail-scarred hands outstretched, waiting for us to run into the safety and comfort of His arms. That mental picture is so vivid and powerful to me. The holes in His hands where the nails once were remind me that He has felt every ounce of physical pain my mom will ever feel in the course of her disease. He knows a pain far greater than that experienced in a car accident or a knee injury. At the same time, those same scars remind me of the fact that when He suffered and died on that cross, He had experienced all of the emotions I ever have or ever will face. He had both loved and lost. He had treasured relationships with his friends and family. He had been betrayed and abandoned.

Perhaps the reason I can step into the shoes of others and see things and feel things from their perspective is because Jesus first stepped out of His own sandals and stood barefoot in the pain of the poor, the sick, the weak, and the down-trodden. Perhaps it's not a characteristic of my personality that causes me to be this way. Rather, it is Christ living in me that allows me to feel any empathy or sympathy at all.

One thing I know for sure is that I am grateful for my sympathy pains. They are real and raw and fresh. They remind me of my weakness and my need for a Lord and Savior. At the close of our study of the book of James this week, I was talking to my home group about suffering and reflecting on what I've learned through experiencing trials in my life. In James 1:2-4, the author writes, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." It has come up many times during our study of James that suffering inevitably produces a stronger dependency on Jesus Christ than that which is experienced in times of joy or peace. It is in those moments of vulnerability and pain that we find ourselves desperately clinging like the bleeding woman (Mark 5, Luke 8) to the hem of Jesus' robe.

I am grateful for my sympathy pains because they allow me to show love to those who need it most. I have experienced many trials and God has always been faithful to bring me through them. I believe that the empathy I feel is a gift from God that spurs me to reach out to those who are hurting and tell them that they are not alone in their suffering. I have suffered and am testimony of God's love and grace. Jesus suffered far greater pain and grief to the extent that He even died for me and for you. That is surely something to consider with joy.

I will walk humbly all my years because of this anguish of my soul. Lord, by such things men live and my spirit finds life in them too. You restored me to health and let me live. Surely it was for my benefit that I suffered such anguish. In your love you kept me from the pit of destruction; you have put all my sins behind your back. - Isaiah 38:15-17

But we see Jesus, who was made a little lower than the angels, now crowned with glory and honor because he suffered death, so that by the grace of God he might taste death for everyone. - Hebrews 2:9

To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. - I Peter 2:21

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God's power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. - I Peter 1:3-7

go to sleep, my child

I am a glutton for punishment when it comes to sleep. I rarely, if ever, get enough sleep. I stay up until 1, 2, or sometimes even 3 in the morning and then wake up and start all over again at 6:30 each morning. On the weekends, I don't sleep in past 7:30 or 8 because I feel like I waste my day if I sleep in. It's probably a miracle that I function as well as I do. Not that I function all that well...unfortunately my blonde cells multiply and take over my body with each hour of sleep that I'm deprived. I forget things and events that happened within the last 48 hours. I recently showed up for a party a week early. Yep, that's proof. I'm definitely sleep deprived. (But in all honesty, showing up a week early turned out to be a lot of fun so don't knock it 'til you try it!)

This week I marked my calendar for sleep. Yes, that's right. I put sleep on my calendar! I had to. My December calendar was full before December even started and looking at it was making me feel stressed out and tired. So, I marked Wednesday for uninterrupted, glorious sleep and I was determined to let nothing get in the way of it.

By the time Wednesday rolled around, I was definitely at my breaking point. Months of being on the go non-stop was taking its toll. I knew my immune system had to be running on fumes and my nerves were definitely on edge. I was exhausted to the point of being a hazard on the road in rush hour traffic on my way home from work come 7:00 that night. When I finally walked in my front door, I yanked off my high heels and collapsed, fully clothed onto my bed and into an instant coma.

I eventually awoke...well, to some extent...when my "Santa Baby" ringtone pierced my psyche and interrupted my dreams. With eyes half open and a brain functioning at about 35%, I managed to make myself some dinner, clean my bathroom, and finish the two loads of laundry I had started that morning before heading to the office. With my chores done and my belly full, I finally was ready to hit the sack for good.

But somewhere in the midst of my weary body's need for rest and my obsessive compulsive need for my house to be in order and my bathroom to be clean, it hit me that my greatest need was to just surrender to God. I don't just busy myself with a hectic schedule and an over-committed calendar on a regular basis. I systematically pile on burdens and carry them around on my shoulders stacked hazardously high above my 5'3" stature. I carefully and stubbornly balance them as I walk doubled over along my path until their weight causes me to stumble and tumble. Then, and only then, do I surrender them over to God. But there in my sheer exhaustion, God spoke to my heart. He said, "Come and rest in my arms." And that's when I let go of everything. I let go of my worries. I let go of yesterday and today. I let go of tomorrow. I let go and I crawled up into the arms of Jesus. Ok, it was actually my bed that I crawled into. But trust me, I was crawling into Jesus' arms. And it was there that I found deep, restful, peaceful, glorious sleep. 9 hours of it.

The next night as I hurried home in the heavy evening traffic, I had the radio on instead of my iPod which is uncharacteristic of me because I generally am annoyed by the radio. It was no coincidence that I happened to tune into Z88.3 just as MercyMe's "Joseph's Lullaby" began to play. I heard the words and was reminded of my time of rest the night before.


Go to sleep my Son
This manger for your bed
You have a long road before You
Rest Your little head

Can You feel the weight of Your glory?
Do You understand the price?
Or does the Father guard
Your heart for now
So You can sleep tonight?

Go to sleep my Son
Go and chase Your dreams
This world can wait for one more moment
Go and sleep in peace

I believe the glory of Heaven
Is lying in my arms tonight
But Lord, I ask that He for just this moment
Simply be my child

Go to sleep my Son
Baby, close Your eyes
Soon enough You'll save the day
But for now, dear Child of mine
Oh my Jesus, Sleep tight


Those song lyrics struck me as beautiful and personal. With those words, God was calling His dear Son to find rest in His arms with the same tenderness and love that He had used to call me into His arms the night before.

I need to spend less time trying to change the world one busy task, meeting, or Bible study at a time...and spend more time resting in the arms of my Father.

God, I want to simply be your child.

a still reflection

James 1:19-20 says, "My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires."

For the last three or four months I've been studying the book of James with my home group. Slowly but surely, we've dissected the text verse by verse. Again and again, those are the two verses that keep coming to my mind. I keep coming back to those words: Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry. I've read those verses many times before, but this time they leaped off the page and shouted at me, demanding that I reconsider them. They've struck a chord in my soul that keeps reverberating as each day goes by.

I've always looked at those verses and thought of them in terms of me and my relationship with my family, friends, and people in general. I think I have always looked at those verses as a kind of a checklist of godly behavior to be mentally ticked off. Be quick to listen. I'm a great listener. Check. Be slow to speak. I sometime speak before I think but not terribly often. Check. Be slow to become angry. I rarely get to the point that my blood is boiling. It actually takes a lot to stir up anger in my soul. Check. Wow, at this rate I'm a pretty good Christian. And so, I think I've traditionally checked off my checklist, patted myself on the back, and given myself permission to kind of gloss over those words.

But something changed during the course of this study. As I've heard those verses mentioned and as I've referenced them myself time and time again in the course of discussing the rest of the book, something in my perspective began to shift.

Over the course of the study, I have been struggling with a seemingly unrelated verse in the Bible. Psalm 46:10 says, "Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Even though Psalm 46 is one of my favorite Psalms and I read it often, that particular verse is one that I battle tooth and nail.

I habitually overbook my calendar. I have a ridiculously hard time saying no to anyone who asks me to do something. I am busy all the time! Oh sure, I'm busy with things that are good and often even Christ-like. I'm busy with all the normal day-to-day stuff like work and keeping my house clean and going to the gym every day and having fun with my friends. And then on top of that I'm busy with "spiritual things" like Bible studies and planning church events and helping different friends and family members with needs that arise. My weeks seem to fill up with life's clutter in the blink of an eye.

My family and my friends have chastised me a million times, warning me that I need to slow down before I make myself sick. They say I need to learn how to say no. My old boss used to tell me that I was too much of a perfectionist and that I needed to learn how to delegate and trust my employees to get the job done rather than do everything myself, my way. Even so, I never seem to listen. I nod and smile and say, "Oh yes, you're absolutely right" but inside I'm already thinking about what I need to get done today and what's on my calendar for tomorrow. On those rare occasions that I decide to slow down and take some time off, something too fun to resist or seemingly too important to disregard pops up and suddenly I'm driving across town and staying out until two in the morning again.

A few weeks ago I was at a church service at Summit and my friend gave me a copy of the advent study guide published by the church. I was eager to begin the study and make it an important part of my routine in this busy holiday season. Keeping Christ at the focus of the Christmas season is incredibly important to me and at the same time increasingly difficult as the years go by. I brought the book home and laid it on my dresser. As I put it down, its title stared back at me: Still. One simple word that pierced me with such conviction I almost couldn't look at it anymore.

The book sat on my dresser for a week untouched. Still. I couldn't stop thinking about Psalm 46:10. I knew it was God speaking to my heart but I resisted that fact, convincing myself that I was much too busy to be still and listen to God. In fact, exactly one week into the staring contest between Still and I, I was talking to a friend close to midnight about how busy my life had become and how much I longed for more time spent reading the Word when those fateful words parted from my lips, "I'm just too busy." As soon as my own ears heard the phrase leave my mouth, I wanted to reach out and grab them from the air and suck them back down in shame. Too busy for God? Who am I kidding? Ridiculous.

Needless to say, that night I went home and got into bed with Still in hand. Still and I had some quality time that night. I read the first week's lessons that night and with each "day" of wisdom, my soul was touched more deeply and I knew those words were exactly what I needed to hear. It was as if that book was written by God for me. A love letter from Jesus. It was an amazing experience and one that was well worth staying up late into the night for.

Somewhere in that time of stillness with God, He spoke to my heart and changed the meaning of James 1:19-20 for me. For the first time ever, I looked at those verses and I didn't think about my relationship with others. I didn't mentall check off my good behavior and dismiss the importance of James' words. This time I read those words and I thought of my relationship with God Himself. "Be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry." Be still.

Be quick to listen. How often do I busy myself to the point that I fail to simply listen for God's voice? Failure. Be slow to speak. I am always running my mouth, speaking to others about what they should or could be doing to please God and serve Him, but am I slowing down enough to recognize when I should be silent instead? Failure. Be slow to become angry. I know that all too often I become frustrated with waiting on God's timing, become angry with Him for not catering to my desires and take matters into my own hands. I pray to God with a request and when He doesn't answer in my own time frame, I get frustrated. Failure again.

Those verses in James and that verse in the Psalms have become more meaningful to me in the last couple of weeks. I think they'll remain in my heart for awhile. I have so much yet to learn on this journey here on earth. I know that God has many more things that He will teach me along the way. Today, my goal is to simply be still long enough to hear what He has to say to me today...in this one moment.

Be still, Beloved.

humble pie

I prefer the taste of pumpkin pie over humble pie any day of the week. What was I thinking today when I opened my big mouth and inserted my foot?

A friend of mine who never, ever compliments me finally gave me a compliment (or at least I think so) and I immediately shot it down because I've had my feelings hurt and I wanted him to know that he's the one who's been hurting me the most. Even though everything in me was screaming, don't say anything...don't say anything...I said something....and then I said some more...and then some more. Of course, remorse inevitably and immediately followed. Bitter humble pie in my big, fat mouth.

It's not that what I said was so terrible. In fact, I tried very hard to carefully choose my words. It's just that at that particular moment, it would have better for me to just say nothing at all. When will I learn to just be quiet when silence is what is called for?

Why is it that I say that I trust God and in my mind I know that I do honestly trust God and His timing and yet my actions repeatedly say "Move over, God, because I have a better idea!"? There's something deep inside of me that causes me to leap head-first into action when there's a problem, thinking to myself all the while that I can fix it or solve it or make it feel or look better. But shouldn't I have learned by now that God is in control of all things and that He is infinitely better equipped than I am when it comes to mending broken relationships and broken bones and broken hearts and broken anything? When will that knowledge that is so firmly planted in my head and heart finally translate to my words and actions?

In the grand scheme of things, am I more worried about getting my point across than I am about shaping my character to better reflect the image of Christ? The answer is no. Sometimes, however, my eyes wander from the cross and I lose sight of what's important. God always directs my eyes back towards Himself. He always forgives me and reminds me to forgive others just the same. He loves me and reminds me to love others as He has loved me. And so I do.

I am definitely a work in progress. Stinkin' humble pie. Sigh.


Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires. James 1:19-20

The fear of the Lord teaches a man wisdom, and humility comes before honor. Proverbs 15:33

proud to be a treehugger

Today I took a walk with God.

I started out my day as I would any other Saturday, but then God took me by the hand and led me so graciously, lovingly, and tenderly along a beautiful detour.

The weather was so absolutely gorgeous today that I felt compelled to spontaneously set aside my plans for the day and just enjoy some time alone with God. With my iPod plugged into my ears and a book in my hand, I parked my car and just started walking. I didn't have a destination in mind really. I kind of let the music guide me. It was sort of like those guys back in the day who searched for water with a Y-shaped stick or Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride who let his sword guide him. Maybe watching August Rush twice in one week has had an effect on me. All I know is that I let the music set my pace and when Beyonce said "to the left, to the left"...I literally turned down a side street to the left.

As I walked down sidewalks and cobblestone streets, my eyes wandered over landscapes and architecture. Even without my camera in hand, I see the world in photographs sometimes. A stone church steeple rising into the air in contrast against a brilliant blue sky. Brightly colored flowers in full bloom. Palm trees towering high overhead. Children giggling. A couple walking hand in hand. A dog sleeping contently at his master's feet. I see God's beauty everywhere.

For awhile I laid down on a park bench and read from my book. I could have fallen asleep there if it weren't for the fact that park benches make lousy pillows. But as I lay there looking up beyond the white gazebo towards the trees, I felt like I was looking at a deserted movie set. Several deflated balloons dangled from a branch high overhead, remnants of a picture perfect party some days past. Now the party was over and I was the only one left. It was bizarre how quiet and still the world seemed as I stretched across that bench. I read from my book there in the quiet stillness. I read about God's power and I felt something stir in my soul as the truth resonated there.

Eventually the music guided me to a park. After that, it took me to a lake. It was there that I spotted the tree. The perfect climbing tree. Seriously.

I climbed up into the tree and got settled. Perched high above the ground, I felt at home. Looking out over the lake, I watched the snake birds dive for their lunch and then air out their wings at the water's edge. I watched the ducks paddle their way from one bank to another in perfect synchronized formation. I laughed at the squirrels chasing one another in dizzying circles around the branches high above my head. I watched the Spanish moss swaying in the breeze and listened to the distant whistle of a passing train. The Russian Easter Overture began to play from my iPod and I swear nature danced to the music. For fifteen minutes (yes, it's that long of a song), the tall grasses bowed and the breeze shifted as the music swelled. Maybe August Rush has gotten to my head. I don't care. It was beautiful.

I alternated between looking up at the clouds in true daydreamer's fashion and reading Godly words of wisdom from my book. I let God speak to me without distraction. I was still. And it struck me. "Be still and know that I am God" the Psalmist writes. That's one of my favorite Psalms and yet I'm rarely still. I am always on the go, always running from one scheduled commitment to the next, meeting this friend for coffee or helping that friend with a project. I spend my time wisely for the most part and much of it is spent serving God, but most of it is simply spent. Not set aside. I am rarely just still for the purpose of being still and listening to God's voice.

But there, above the ground...in a tree...I was just still. I forgot for a little while about all of the tasks I needed to accomplish. I let go of the worries that are weighing me down. I set aside the pain and the fear and the doubt that accompany this life. I just enjoyed time with Jesus. I listened as He whispered to me through the beauty of my surroundings. I let Him romance my heart and I think my soul even did a little dance as my iPod played on.

Why is it that I find it so difficult to make time for God in that way? Why can't I slow down more often and just find rest and peace in the arms of my Savior? Why am I always so ridiculously busy? I bought two rocking chairs for my front porch, but I'm never at home to sit in them and relax with a friend over a lazy conversation. I bought a TV for my bedroom so that I would relax in bed during a movie, but I've only succeeded in making time to watch one movie in the last three months. Why is it that I have to climb a tree in order to sit still long enough for God to speak to my soul without having to shout above the distractions I surround myself with daily? And if it takes climbing a tree to achieve such stillness, then why do I not long to climb a tree every single day of my life?

God, I want to wake up tomorrow and long to climb a tree with you.

"Be still, and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth." Psalm 46:10

rubies on tuesdays

I don't know what it is about Tuesdays, but Tuesdays are usually rough days for me. Crazy and tragic and sad things just seem to happen to me and my loved ones on Tuesdays for some reason. Well, actually I know there's a reason. I'm sure it's no coincidence that Tuesdays just also happen to be the day that my home group meets. We're studying the book of James and it has been a deep, intense study of God's Word. All nine of us have laid our hearts out on the table. We're actively seeking to learn more about God and serve one another each week as we meet to discuss the truths found in the Scriptures.

And so, on Tuesday mornings, when I get out of bed....I'm pretty convinced that Satan shudders a little at the potential threat of a woman who is truly pursuing God with her every breath and he scrambles to see what he might find to throw in my path. Fatigue. Illness. A wounded relationship. A hard day at the office. Whatever Satan can think of, he lays it out before me in hopes that he might cause me to stumble as I hike along the rocky, narrow road of righteousness. He longs to rob me of my joy long before seven o'clock rolls around and I walk in the door at home group.

Every Tuesday is a battle. And every Tuesday Satan loses. I love it!

No matter how drained I feel before walking in the door, no matter how ill-prepared I feel to lead a discussion on the Scripture we're reading, no matter how many different directions I feel I'm being pulled in...somehow God supernaturally redirects my thoughts and allows me to focus on Him with renewed strength. Each Tuesday I leave that Bible study with such pure joy in my heart that I feel like I might explode! And the crazy part is that I'm not really exaggerating.

I was thinking a few days ago about when I was in North Carolina and we were sifting through the dirt and debris at the bottom of a waterfall looking for rubies and garnet. I thought about how that search was so similar to our spiritual quest. God has all of these great treasures for us. He has beautiful rubies that He desires to gift us with, but Satan works as hard as he can to cover them up with dirt and debris. He wants them to seem unattainable. He wants to cover them up and bury them so deeply in the things of this world (the monotony of daily living, stress, arguments, sickness, weariness, broken relationships, etc.) that we forget about them and stop even trying to pursue them.

Each Tuesday I find myself with a handfull of rubies in my pocket by the end of the day. The rubies come in the form of Bible verses that speak to my heart, text messages that make me smile huge Orbit chewing gum smiles (ding!), surprise packages left on my doorstep, out-of-the blue phone calls from loved ones, bear hugs that lift me off of the ground, blue skies that cause me to daydream, and sunsets that quite literally take my breath away.

I love ruby Tuesdays! :) ....not to be confused with the restaurant.

roadside redeemer

I don't know why or how, but somehow I let the Devil get the best of me the other day. It started out an ordinary day. The sun rose in all its glory as it usually does. I joyfully watched its early morning rays glisten in the morning dew and never thought for a second that in just a few hours' time I'd be going to battle with Satan and his evil forces.

It was later in the afternoon when I started feeling like I was so alone. That's where the Enemy gets me. He is the father of isolation. He wants me to feel alone, betrayed, abandoned, fearful. I know these are his games, his clever tricks. He whispers "you're not good enough" in one ear and sings "you're not truly loved by anyone" in the other ear. He's good at what he does, but my God is so much better. The best thing about battling the Evil One is that I know that God is on my side and that He has already defeated Satan and his armies. But in that moment of doubt and uncertainty, it can be hard to shake loose from the devil's grip on my arm. He pursues me in my thoughts relentlessly even though he knows that my heart already belongs to Jesus Christ.

I was driving to a party where I'd be meeting up with thirty to forty friends, yet I felt alone. It was a long drive. No, it was a very long drive. Each mile seemed to stretch on forever as the devil battled for the control of mind. He told me lies. No, not the kind of lies you hear out loud in creepy, taunting voices like in the movies. The quiet kind of lies that start somewhere in the back of your brain…so far back that you think you must have come up with them all by yourself. And since you think they've come from your own mind, you think certainly they must be true. Surely, you wouldn't lie to yourself. Would you?

At last I'd had enough of this torture and I gathered all my strength to pray against the lies that were swarming my thoughts and choking my joy. As hard as I tried to pray, as much as I struggled to cast out all doubt and uncertainty, the thoughts persisted. My soul felt heavy and dark. I felt so alone.

Finally, I pulled my car over. It was a lonely stretch of highway out in the middle of nowhere. Literally, nowhere. There I sat in my car next to some swampy water and reeds probably twice my height as cars periodically whizzed past me. I took out my "emergency Bible" and began reading the Psalms aloud. Soon the tears were flowing freely as the Psalmist's cries became my own. I begged the Lord to deliver me from my Enemy. "Arise, O Lord! Deliver me, O my God! Strike all my enemies on the jaw; break the teeth of the wicked," I read and wept and still the darkness persisted, weighing heavily on my soul. I tried to pray and I felt helpless to do so.

I got out of the car and walked closer to the water. The sun had begun its descent toward the horizon and it was casting long shadows across the marshlands in front of me. Tiny birds were darting and chasing one another around the reeds. I heard something moving low in the grass and wondered if I might get to see a gator up close and personal. The wind whipped my hair around my face (especially as cars drove by) and the sun threatened to blind me as it continued to dip even lower in the sky.

I sat there at the water's edge and looked at God's creation stretched out before me. Nothing speaks to my heart like the beauty of creation. For me, to be outside is to feel alive. Usually that's all I need to ground me, to awaken my soul to the awesome majesty of the Creator. But on this night the darkness prevailed. The heaviness didn't lift. I prayed and prayed. I prayed so earnestly. Why wasn't God there for me? Why was I so alone?

Eventually I got back into the car, still heavy-laden and oppressed. I went to the party, but never felt truly present. I prayed throughout the night without ever understanding what I was experiencing. In fact, my night got worse. "Why are you allowing this to happen, God?" I was so dumbfounded. "I know my prayers are heard, so what's the deal God? What are you doing here? Why am I alone in this? "

It wasn't until the next day that I realized what had happened the night before. I was driving again, this time without the devil's whispers in my ear. I saw a sign that said "You've never cried alone. God is always there." And at that moment, it dawned on me that God had been there with me as I cried by the roadside.

I was so consumed by my self-pity as I sat there in the grass that I didn't even notice when Jesus stooped down and lifted me with such gentleness, tenderness, and strength and sat me on His lap as though I were just a tiny lamb. I didn't even notice when He wrapped His strong arms around me and held me tight, cradling me close to His chest. I was too distracted to notice the warmth of His calloused and nail-pierced hands as He laid them over my own. I never even noticed that as I was weeping, tears were streaming down His face as well.

There, on the side of the road, Jesus met me. I was never alone. I never will be alone. The Bible says it and I know it to be true. It says in Deuteronomy chapter 31, "The Lord Himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged."

What a blessed and wonderful thought to dwell on! The Creator of the universe who causes the sun to shine so brightly, who hung the stars in the sky and causes the moon to wane and wax…that very same Holy of holies, King of kings and Lord of lords…He met me at the roadside. He was with me in the car too. Tonight as I ran, He was right there next to me. He pounded the pavement mile after mile at my side whispering "I love you, my child" from start to finish.

There will be quite a few lonely car rides before my life is over. Satan doesn't grow tired of trying to hinder the work that Christ has begun in me. But he is doomed for failure because Jesus defeated him at the cross over two thousand years ago. I will have my dark days when my eyes are shut to the goodness of God and I temporarily forget the certainty of His love and faithfulness. But He will be there nonetheless. He will hold me in the sanctuary of His loving arms. He will feel my sorrow and He will share in my joy. That's what a Father does.

ready to fly

Last weekend was an amazing weekend. A few friends and I surprised my friend Stacy for his birthday by "kidnapping" him and taking him to the mountains of North Carolina for some early birthday hiking and exploring during the peak of autumn with all of its radiant colors. Around each curve in the road, something new and beautiful awaited us. At one point, someone pointed out that as the colorful leaves fell from the trees, the person who caught each leaf was the first person to ever touch that particular leaf. Incredible.

We began our mornings with a quiet time on the balcony of our cabin. There I sat overlooking the Great Smoky Mountains with my Bible in my lap and a steaming (literally) cup of coffee in hand to ward off the chills that threatened to make my teeth chatter. There's just something about being outside in the midst of God's creation that makes me feel like I'm sitting in His lap. I adore the color green and so being outside with the trees and the grass always makes me feel alive. But being in the midst of the reds, golds, oranges, and yellows of Fall...being there makes me feel like I'm burning with life! The mountains are my favorite landscape, for sure. Each time I look at a mountain, I'm reminded of how truly small I am. Small enough to seem insignificant from the world's perspective, yet perfectly significant and dear in God's eyes.

Throughout the weekend, I reflected on the truths that God has been pressing upon my heart lately. He's been romancing me with His beauty and His grandeur. He's been humbling me and purifying my heart. He's been teaching me to lean more on Him for my strength. He's been reminding me that He truly is in control of all things. He's been telling me He loves me through the smiles and embraces of all those people I hold so dear in this world.

On Sunday, before heading home to Florida, a couple friends and I stopped to visit my grandfather at his home in the Carolinas. I felt bad asking my friends to take the time out of their vacation to visit a man they'd never even met before, but I knew I couldn't drive through town without seeing him. Each time I see him (which isn't often these days), he seems to shrink in size. All my life, my grandfather has been a strong man with a sharp mind and opinions and beliefs that are bold enough to make the largest of men seem small next to him. I look at him as the spiritual mentor for my whole extended family. He started out his life as a poor kid on the streets of Chicago and grew into a man who feared God and dedicated his life to spreading the Truth of the Gospel. He has passed out literally thousands upon thousands of tracks with Scripture verses and the message of salvation printed on them. He raised up a family to love and serve God and now his grandchildren and great grandchildren are following in his footsteps.

This visit with my grandpa was the most tender experience I have ever had with him. For the first time, he felt soft. He was gentle and fragile to me for the first time ever. He let me just hold his hand and stroke his arm as I sat at his feet. His eyes teared up just looking at me. I don't know how clearly he sees my face through his 89-year-old eyes but I know that when he looks at me he sees me through a filter of such love and devotion that his eyes see something beautiful and he makes me feel beautiful in return.

Holding my hand, my grandpa turned to me and said "I'm ready to fly, honey..." and my heart almost stopped. "I'm ready to go home." Those words pierced me with their gravity and I couldn't stop the tears from welling up in my eyes no matter how hard I tried to fight them. Would this be the last time I would ever sit at my grandpa's feet? Would this be the last time I held and kissed his hand? Would this be the last time I heard him repeat the jokes I've been hearing him tell over and over again for the last twenty-plus years?

I'm crying now as I write these words. Crying and wishing I were at his feet right now, holding his soft and fragile hand in my own strong hands. The thought of having to let go of him in a figurative sense terrifies me and makes me want to rejoice at the same time. Grandpa said that he wants to go to heaven because he won't be 89 there. He said he'll be younger. Maybe 80. Maybe 33 like Jesus was when he died. He's excited about being with Jesus. And I know that Jesus longs to have "little Paulie" come home to Him at last. It will be a day of great rejoicing when this warrior of a man enters the presence of His blessed Savior and redeemer who took him out of the pit and raised him into a man of great faith who would lead an entire family to the feet of Jesus Christ.

Later after we visited grandpa, we drove to the mountain he used to live on and saw the house he lived in until my granny died and he sold it in his grief. He'd had a plan for our whole family to live on that mountain together, but then his beautiful bride of forty plus years breathed her last breath and his plans were forever altered. I thought about how often that happens. We plan out our lives only to find out that God has an alternate plan that is so much more perfect and complete.

Grandpa is getting ready to fly, but he is leaving a legacy behind. His life has brought many people to Jesus. It has been a full life, a life of great consequence. That night we visited a cemetery and as I read some of the epitaphs on the gravestones I thought of what my grandfather's gravestone might say. How do you tell the world about a life so full of grace and joy and hope and strength and passion in just a few words chiseled into the face of a piece of stone?

I hope that one day someone will say such things about my life. I don't want to wait until I'm older and thinking about dying to begin living a life of meaning. A friend reminded me last week that none of us is guaranteed tomorrow. I know that to be true. I want to live each day with a heart that is ready to serve the kindgom of Christ...a heart that is ready to fly. I want to live today as if there might not be a tomorrow, grateful for each breath...each smile...each heartache...each embrace.

Thank you to Stacy and Nathan for visiting my grandfather with me. Thank you for letting me cry in your arms.

arms wide open

Over the last couple of months I've had quite a few conversations with different friends about giving up our worldly possessions and about the inconsequential nature of all of our worldly goods. I've seen a few videos and heard a few sermons over these last several weeks about the injustice that's taking place in our world today and I've been reminded just how good I have it here in America, the wealthiest nation in the world.

I've certainly never been what I would ever call wealthy. Oh, I grew up in a home where my needs were always met, though sometimes by the generosity of others. We were on the receiving end more than once of our church's charity come Thanksgiving or Christmas when the canned goods were collected and distributed to the families "in need." But we never went without. My mom and dad would have done anything necessary to see to that. What must it feel like to wake up in the morning and not know where your next meal will come from? Whether there will be a warm place to sleep come nightfall.

Tonight in church we watched a slideshow of pictures from the devastation that scarred Louisiana when Hurricane Katrina made landfall a couple years go. Seeing those images up there on the big screen, larger than life…they touched something deep inside my soul. I had to ask myself what that would be like…to lose everything I own. And possibly everyone I love.

The story of Job keeps coming to mind. He lost everything he owned and everyone he loved and still he didn't curse God. How did he do it? Where does faith like that come from? A faith so unshakeable. So firm. Would my own faith withstand such weathering?

I'm not much of an "earthly treasures" kind of person. I'm not very materialistic. I don't put a lot of value in my clothes, my furniture, my house, or my car. I periodically go through all of my possessions and donate or give away as much as I can because I prefer the least amount of clutter in my life possible. I'm sentimental but not to the extreme. When that age-old question is asked about what I would save if I could only save three things from being burned in a fire, I have usually answered my pictures, my Bible, and my pillow. But that's a ridiculous question and my answers are even more absurd. A Bible and pillow are easily replaced. My pictures will one day fade to a golden brown in a box in my closet as their ink loses its color.

There's a part of me that longs to know what it feels like to be the victim of such a disaster as what those victims of Katrina faced. Or perhaps the victim of a violent tornado. To wake up one day and be grateful to simply be…alive. There's something absolutely wonderful and freeing in that thought. Don't get me wrong. I thank God that He has spared me from such tragedy. But what a wake up call to think about standing in those shoes of the man who just lost his home and everything he owned when a tornado demolished it all in just minutes. It definitely puts my pain in perspective. Who am I to complain about my loss when others have lost infinitely more?

You might think I'm crazy for seeing something wonderful and beautiful in something as tragic as a natural disaster. But storms are becoming something precious to me. The way I see it…the beauty isn't in the storm itself, it's in the rescue from the storm. To watch a community come together in a time of crisis is…beautiful. To watch the church raise money and support to rebuild homes and rebuild lives is beautiful. To truly recognize my need for a Savior....beautiful.

And so the question is…how do I live a life of extreme gratitude without having endured such extreme loss? How do I surrender everything I own and everyone I love, holding them out to God with my arms wide open, fingers outstretched…ready to be taken from my grasp at any moment? How do I live in the "perhaps today I may breathe my last breath" mentality? How do I make every second count? How do I live every single day for the cause of Jesus Christ? How do I store up all of my treasures in heaven?

With arms wide open.

But whatever was to my profit I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ—the righteousness that comes from God and is by faith. Philippians 3:7-9

For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. Philippians 1:21

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. Matthew 6:19-20

rain, rain...go away

They say that when it rains it pours. Lately I feel like there's a torrential downpour going on in my life. Within about a week's time my dad was in the hospital after what the doctors thought was a heart attack, my mom found out she might have cancer again, my sister's car broke down (for good) and then to top that off she lost her job.

Summers here in Florida are silly. Each day starts out beautiful and fresh with a blue sky that melts my heart and beautiful, billowing clouds that are a field day for my imagination. I look out from my office window and pine to be set free into the outdoors every day. Trapped there behind my desk, I dream of picnics and walks in the park, swimming laps in my pool, sipping iced tea at sidewalk cafes, and sprinting through open fields! I'm really quite ridiculous. But then somewhere between the lunch hour and the time I leave work to head for the gym, the sky is usually overcome by a cloak of gray storm clouds and I quickly forget the carefree, sunshiny beauty I was so enthralled by just hours ago.

Life is like that, isn't it? I mean things can be going so great and I can be feeling so completely blessed by God. I become content receiving His blessings to the point that I expect them to continue at their "usual" pace and am disappointed when trouble or turmoil arises.

I was compiling a CD of some of my favorite worship songs awhile ago for a friend of mine who was going through a difficult time. I didn't realize until that moment that many of my favorite tunes are centered around rain. They include phrases like "when the rain comes," "grace like rain," and "let it rain, open the floodgates of heaven." As that realization resounded in my soul, I started thinking about the rain. I know that rain can appear gloomy and it can spoil our plans for a picnic or a beach day. But think about AFTER the rain…

After the rain, the earth smells fresh. The trees and the grass are a shade greener it seems. The rain is necessary for growth. Another worship song that I've heard on the radio boasts "I will praise you in the storm" …because…there is beauty in the storm! It's during the storms that we cling to Jesus out of desperation and fear. We, as Christians, grow closer to Christ in the storms of life just as surely as the grass gains its inches in the afternoon thunder storms.

And so, I welcome the storms. I will cherish the downpour. I will savor the walks in the rain with Jesus when He puts His strong, capable arm around my shoulder, walks alongside me, and calls me His "Beloved."

One of my favorite and most memorable moments was in the rain a few years ago. It was hurricane season and Universal Studios' annual Rock the Universe event was featuring one of my favorite Christian bands, Third Day. The hurricane had threatened to cancel RTU but oddly enough the rains held off and the shows went on hour by hour. Third Day would be the last band to perform if the weather held up long enough. Throughout the evening, the dark storm clouds loomed overhead but no rain came. My night at Universal wasn't a particularly great one (long story), but when it finally came time for Third Day to take the stage, I was able to put the events of my day behind me and focus on worshiping Jesus. That band truly has a talent for creating an atmosphere of worship. And so there I stood with several thousands of believers united with arms outstretched toward the heavens, worshiping the one true God with reckless abandon.

Then the cool part happened. Third Day announced that they were going to play their final song. The very first notes of "When the Rain Comes" pierced the darkness and something miraculous happened. Though it was near midnight, the sky seemed to light up and the heavens opened up. A light rain began to fall with those words, but it was unlike any other rain I've ever experienced. It fell lightly and didn't seem to make us wet. No one ran for cover. We stood there feeling it's feather-light droplets hit our faces and outstretched hands. "I can't stop the rain" they sang and I cried. My tears mingled with the rain as I stared at the bright night sky. God was in that place. He was telling us He loves us so deeply, so mightily. "When the rain comes, I will hold you" is how the song ends.

One year later, I was standing there in almost the same exact spot worshiping with Third Day and expecting a similar life-changing worship experience when my cell phone rang and I met with a completely different kind of life-altering experience altogether. It was my Mom calling from an ambulance to tell me that she and my dad had been in a car accident on their way home from dinner. A drunk driver had run a red light driving about 65 mph with his headlights off, striking my mom's door upon impact. The accident left her with a fractured knee, broken hip and shattered pelvis. Thus began another rainstorm for our family. It was a seven-month-long journey of waiting for the doctors to piece her body back together again and many, many more months of painful rehabilitation before she could walk again without the aid of a walker or cane.

And now we face the storm again with my mom's most recent diagnosis. She doesn't have cancer after all. Instead of cancer, she has a rare autoimmune disease that nobody's ever heard of. It's obscure and painful and scary. It's pouring down rain and we can barely see ten feet ahead of us. But God is with us in the storm. He has us in His grip and He won't let go. I know this to be true.

Soon I'll be on the other side of the storm. I'll be looking up at the rainbow that God has painted in the sky for me. I'll smile up at it and remember that He has promised to never leave me or forsake me. For awhile, the pain of the storm will be fresh and I'll feel it like an open wound that is healing but still sensitive, tender, raw, vulnerable. After awhile I will forget the pain of the storm until another comes my way. My hope and prayer though is that I never lose sight of God's care and provision in my life. I want to not only walk with Him in the rain, but in the sunlight as well.

"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." (James 1:2-4)

"Listen, O heavens, and I will speak; hear, O earth, the words of my mouth. Let my teaching fall like rain and my words descend like dew, like showers on new grass, like abundant rain on tender plants. I will proclaim the name of the LORD. Oh, praise the greatness of our God!" (Deuteronomy 32:1-3)

When The Rain Comes by Third Day

When the rain comes
it seems that everyone has
gone away
When the night falls
you wonder if you shouldn't
find someplace
To run and hide
Escape the pain
But hiding's such a lonely thing to do

I can't stop the rain
From falling down on you again
I can't stop the rain
But I will hold you 'til it goes away

When the rain comes
you blame it on the things that
you have done
When the storm fades
you know that rain must fall
on everyone
Rest awhile
It'll be alright
No one loves you like I do

When the rain comes
I will hold you

the blessed destination

I just spent a glorious week in the mountains of North Carolina. I love those mountains. Each time I visit, I try to cram in as many hikes as possible. The scenery where my family lives in Hendersonville, and in the surrounding areas, is simply breathtaking. Just being there makes me feel more alive. I've climbed a lot of mountains and hiked to a lot of waterfalls in North Carolina over the years. This trip I made my first solo expedition of one of the more familiar trails. Rising early one morning, I donned my sneakers and headed for Big Glassy Mountain, ready to welcome adventure with open arms. Of course, hiking by myself meant that I had no one to talk to…which means that I had plenty of time to think.

As I climbed, I was captivated by the beauty all around me. Every leaf and blade of grass was glistening with dew. Birds twittered and chirped their morning songs from their perches overhead. The delicate, sticky, sweet mountain laurel blossoms dotted the landscape on either side of me. As I trudged upward, butterflies darted across the path ahead of me...the sunlight that filtered through the trees briefly illuminating their brightly colored wings like bits of stained glass. In a moment of boldness, a rabbit leaped from the woods and hopped a zigzag path just steps ahead of me before disappearing into the woods again. With some wonder and trepidation of my own, I passed a copperhead sunning himself on the rocks at the stream's edge. Looking high up into the towering trees, I could see that the uppermost leaves were shimmering a beautiful hue of brilliant, inviting green as the rising sun's rays shone through them.

At the end of the trail the view awaited me, rewarding me for the strenuous climb. Here high upon the rock I could look down over the treetops to see the mountains rising in the distance. Atop the mountain beneath a vast expanse of clear, blue sky I felt so small. The mountains always make me feel small. Perhaps that's what I love so much about them. They remind me of how big and how great God truly is. Alongside His majestic creations rising thousands of feet into the air, I am instantly dwarfed as are all of my petty burdens and complaints.

That morning as I traveled upward, my thoughts drifted upward as well, far beyond the mountain's summit…toward heavenly things. I thought about how similar the Christian life is to a mountain trail. The journey is often long and at times rather steep. God never promised this life would be easy. There are rocks and tree roots to stumble upon. The Lord is always faithful to lift us up. The climb brings sweat and pain and weariness. Christ is our strength in our times of weakness. The narrow path is curvy and visibility is at a minimum, with great anticipation of what the next bend will reveal. Similarly, we must put our trust in God and have faith that He will see us through to tomorrow as we are so unsure of what it will bring.

There are wonderful and lovely surprises along the path much like the butterflies and the rabbit, but there are also dangers along the way such as the venomous snake coiled on the rocks. Through our most joyous moments and our darkest hours, the Lord is right there with us. He rejoices with us and cries with us.

Then, at the end of the trail, after many bumps and bruises…at last we arrive at our destination. At last we arrive at the relationship with our Heavenly Father that our souls have longed for from our birth. We find eternal residence with Him in heaven with a view more spectacular than we will ever be able to imagine while we live here on earth.

I can't wait to meet Jesus face to face at the top of a mountain one day!

repentance: 26 miles

Nearly every weekend, I bike the Seminole Wekiva bike trail. From one end to the other and back, the path is twenty-six miles long. Sometimes I'll ride with a friend, but most of the time it's just me out there. Me and God. That means twenty-six miles of communion with my Savior with no distractions. Twenty-six miles of lifting up my family and friends to God, sharing my fears and doubts with Him, and crying out to Him to grant me the desires of my heart.

There's just something about riding that trail that brings me closer to Jesus each week. Just being outside makes me want to worship. As I ride, I feel the warmth of the sun on my face and back and the contrasting coolness of the breeze. I am inspired and amazed by the vastness of the clear, blue canopy of sky overhead. I marvel at the richness of the different shades of green in the trees and plants along the way. I see hawks, tortoises, horses, goats, cows, and snakes. Around every bend is another reminder of the God who created the heavens and the earth.

My weeks are jam-packed full of meetings, paperwork, gym workouts, church functions, friends in need, laundry, bills to be paid, driving in traffic, cleaning, grocery shopping, and phones ringing. For a couple hours each week, I get to leave all of that behind and find quiet on my bike. Here only God can speak to me...if I listen. I often find myself riding with tears streaming down my cheeks as I talk to my heavenly Father.

This morning I left church and got into an argument with my sister. I said words I'd quickly regret. In a fury, I grabbed my bike and headed for the trail. As I pedaled hard and fast, I realized that my heart was full of anger, bitterness, jealousy, and contempt. I was angry with my sister when I should have been patient and compassionate. I was jealous and bitter that God has not blessed me with a husband or a boyfriend while others who either don't want or don't seem to deserve to be in a relationship have one literally waiting at their fingertips. I was feeling frustrated with friends who have misjudged me and fearing that they might abandon me.

Slowly, as mile after mile faded away, so did the raging sinfulness in my heart. God reminded me of who He is and of how truly faithful He is. He called me His Beloved and told me how greatly He loves me and adores me. The tears came and the anger fled. By mile twenty-six, repentance had found residence in a heart recently vacated by wickedness.

so, now what...

As I sit here on the eve of my 26th birthday, I can't help but wonder what's in store for the next year of my life. Will my family be ok? Will I fall in love? Will my heart be broken? Will my friends stick by my side or will they abandon me? Will I be happy or will I be disappointed?

Looking back on the last twelve months, I'm overwhelmed to see what I've been through...or better yet, what God has seen me through. God has truly been faithful even when I have been faithless.

A year ago I was engrossed with feelings of inadequacy and shame after having made some poor decisions that seemed to haunt me at every turn. In view of God's holiness, I felt so unclean and unworthy of His grace and forgiveness. Why would He - how could He - bestow such an extraordinary gift on such a lowly sinner? It was there in my hour of darkness that God shed His holy light and stretched me, molded me, refined me. His capable hands chiseled away at my character to reveal a more beautiful work of art...a work in progress that becomes more appealing to the eye as each day goes by.

This year has been a year marked by triumphs and blessings. I have seen God's faithfulness played out in relationships and circumstances time and time again. And having experienced such a year, I can hardly wait to see what God will do next...

I am so grateful for the family I have and for the growth that I have seen in them over the last year. I am in awe of the friendships which have so richly blessed my life. I am humbled by the spiritual giants placed in my life who have caused me to seek the Lord more fervently and earnestly.

Looking back at the twenty-five-year-old me, I see a girl who has learned how to be more giving and more forgiving...a girl who has experienced the amazing power of prayer (even in the little things)...a girl who has been reminded of the hope that is mine through Christ alone.

I'm not who I thought I would be at 25. I'm not a wife and mother as I hoped I would have been by now. I'm not even dating anyone. A part of me wants to panic thinking about the fact that the only two dreams I've ever had for my life have yet to be realized. But then there's the part of me that takes comfort in knowing that there is a Creator who is all-knowing and all-powerful...and He loves me more deeply than I could ever imagine. He knows the desires of my heart and He has a plan for my life that is far better than any fantasy life I could ever dream up.

And so tonight I go to bed with peace in my heart knowing that God will surely and gloriously reveal Himself to me in the morning.

Jesus said, "I have come that those who believe may have life, and have it to the full." (John 10:10)