Favorite Book of the Bible... Lifes and adventure, right?

DISCLAIMER: This quite possibly could be the most jumbled mess of my thoughts, ever put onto paper... 


So, I know that technically we are not suppose to have favorites, but Ephesians has easily become my favorite book over the coarse of the last couple years. Looking over the pages it covers, it is filled with writing, notes, underling, high lighting... ah, the beauty of a well loved bible. I wish that I could say I loved it more, spent more time digging in, and really living it out.

This passage was the devotion for Bethany's 40 days of Lent devotional and it came at a really good time.

"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up  according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you. Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a live of love just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God." Eph. 3:29-4:2

How often do the words that come out of our mouths reflect love? Do we really think before we speak? Is all the joking and sarcasm in the world just a cover? Where is the deep, real relationship?

I began to think of who in my life I can call on. Who can I call when my day is crappy? Who can I call when I just aced that test? Who can I be one hundred percent real with when I am doubting God? Or forgetting his grace? When I am beating myself up? Or failing to trust God...

When you die, do you want to be know as someone who live ordinarily? content with the comfortable? or someone who put extra into everyday things? Someone who was never ashamed to serve God, to fall to their knees, to lift their arms, to love.

How much do you have to hate someone to NOT tell them about Jesus and eternal life?
Powerful right?

I was talking to my good friend the other night about living an extraordinary life. Living life as an adventure- just the way it was meant to be. I loved the way she put it... "It's easy. Live extraordinarily. Take an ordinary task...and add a twist. Like...showering? Sing. Write a letter/paperwork? Do it left handed. TALK WITH AN ACCENT! Skip instead of walk. See how far you can run on snow before you fall in :)"

So what perspective are you living your life from? 
Adventure?
Just trying to survive?
Race to the finish?

So what makes your life different? When they put you in a box in the ground, what will you be remembered for?

If there was one thing, that people remembered me by I would hope that it was this simple: loving Jesus. Not doing too hot on this right now but what is life but a huge adventure when we are focused on loving God.

I want to travel, tell a stranger that Jesus loves them, make someones day, cause someone to laugh, bring smiles to the broken, hope to the hopeless, never go to bed feeling like that day wasn't worth it, never waste an opportunity for the extraordinary. I don't want to fear anymore, I want to live.

I want to love.

Selfishness

I realized something today, or rather a couple things.
I have been sitting around and waiting for God to get my attention. As if he'd come down in chariots of fire and light the path for me with flood lamps. I have been waiting for God to plant desire in my heart. I have been waiting for God to change me. I have been waiting for God to make me fall in love with him. I have been waiting for God to move in me.

There are two things wrong with this picture.

One.
I had given God no room to move in me.

Two.
I was not actively pursing God.


I cannot expect God to move in me when I give him no room to operate in my life. God calls us to live a life of surrender. He desires to fill us up with all that he has to offer us- love, hope, desire, calling, joy, fulfillment- but when we give him no room to fill us up, he is left waiting... simply waiting for us to pour out our cup. Our cup is never easy to pour out. It is full of all kinds of baggage. Things holding us back. Dreams, desires, materials, hurts, goals, time, and even idols. But in surrendering all that over to God we find true freedom. Freedom to be exactly what God has created us to be. Freedom to love God. Freedom to leave worry behind. Freedom to seek and pursue God with all that we are. When we empty out ourselves, we give God room to fill us up. But God is a gentlemen. He will not pour your cup out for you. The bible does not say that Jesus will take your life from you... what love is that? It says to lay down your life for him. We must start with actively pursuing God. "Come near to God and he will come near to you." I have lived in a lie that past year. I was so worried that the life I was living was one out of religion instead of relationship that I quit reading my bible, and I quit pursing God. I thought that in order for my pursing God to be from pure motive I had to be in love with God. But how do you fall in love with God unless your pursing him?!? Somebody does not just walk into you life and make you love them. You pursue them, you pursue your relationship with them and you FALL IN LOVE.

So right now I have to things on my heart:

Surrender

Actively pursing Jesus






.... and through all of this, he is still smiling down on me, his daughter. That is grace and agape.

I wish I could remember exactly the thoughts that ran through my head as I tossed and turned yet another night away. Sarah and Uncle Wes were heavy on my heart, and a piece of me began to dread to go home. Home is where reminders of them lay. Home means dealing with their loss, that they are not around anymore. And the scariest part about it all, is that I am beginning to forget them.

I feel like I focused so much on Sarah's death that I completely avoiding dealing with Uncle Wes's. And now, almost three years later, it has slipped away that he is actually gone. Never again will I get to fall into his big hugs. I cannot remember what his laugh sounds like, or his deep deep voice. I can't tell you his favorite meal, or even his birthday. I only know that when we get together with family, he won't be there.

I now know that he was not a perfect man, nor is life perfect. He may not have been the best man, but he was my Uncle Wes and I miss him. In the end, when his days were few, he cared most about sharing his love.

I remember our last Christmas together. I complained about having to spend a whole day, driving to Eugene, and having a meal with the whole family. I sat on the opposite side of the table as him. He looked tired, and you could tell this was his biggest outing in a long time. We took a family picture that day. I am not sure who took it, but I wonder where it went. I'd like to see that. We said our goodbye's. I said "Merry Christmas," as if this occassion was the same as all the others.

It wasn't. Those would be my last words to him. My last hug.

Staying in Seattle would mean avoiding the anniversary's that bring pain. Avoiding thinking about the days and years that have passed. So many without even a thought of him not being there.

It never does get easier. As sad as it is to say that, I am being honest. Slowly, you will think about it less, and more and more time will pass between your thoughts, or your "hard days," but those hard days never get any easier. Your heart still aches for one more hug. One more chance to say I love you.

As I lay in bed last night, I think of the main thing I have learned through loss: to love.
Time is short.
No doubt about it.
Never miss a chance to tell someone you love them.

So even a couple minutes after the lights went out, I felt the need to break the silence and tell Bryn I loved her. She may never know the significance of this action, in reality she probably just wanted to go to bed, and be left alone.

For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and melt into the sun?

And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, 

That it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

Only when you rink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb.

And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance.

-Kahlil Gilram

 

November Second...

So, I definitely read the wrong day in my devotional, but it was a perfect message and I wanted to share it.

Consider this a love letter from Jesus to you.

"Grow Strong in the Light of My Presence. Your weakness does not repel Me. On the countrary, it attracts My Power, which is always available to flow into a yielded heart. Do not condemn yourself for your constant need of help. Instead, come to Me with your gaping neediness; let the Light of My Love fill you. 

"A yielded heart does not whine or rebel when the going gets rough. It musters the courage to thank Me even during hard times. Yielding yourself to My will is ultimately an act of trust. In quietness and trust is your strength."

I love her use of yielding...
When a car yields... it waits and it aware, only going when it is time.
Our hearts should be yielding... waiting and aware of God, waiting on his timing.  

Loss

“Pain throws your heart to the ground. Love turns the whole thing around. No it won't all go the way it should, but I know the heart of life is good.” These lyrics played over and over in my head the day they buried Sarah, and I find myself coming back to them often. People leaving, whether through death or choice, is never an easy thing. It can leave you broken, distrusting, and with a hardened heart. Through out my life, I have been challenged to go against the grain. Instead of closing myself off, I’ve had to open up through the loss of people close to my heart and learn the power of tears.

            My parents separated when I was three years old and were divorced by age four. First their business had failed, and then there marriage. Before the divorce was even finalized by dad packed up and moved three hours north in search of work. Once a month, my Mom would pull us out of bed early on a Friday morning, put us on a bus, and wait for our return late Sunday night. At age six, my Dad got remarried and established a new family with my stepmom and her two daughters. Four years later, another marriage failing, my dad moved to his hometown in Texas to take over his dad’s job. My dad was not around for all the things he should have been growing up. He did not celebrate my first lost tooth, learning how to ride a bike, or making the varsity cross country team. I am blessed to say I have an amazing stepdad, (or “Pop” as we call him) who never missed a beat. But at a young age, I was forced to cope with the loss of my dad, which only lead to a hardened heart.

            In the void years between a dad left, and a “pop” found, my Uncle Wes stepped in. He often visited, letting me dance on his toes and steal the change that fell from his pockets when he walked on his hands. At the age of six, my mom did the best she could to explain to me the evil of cancer that had entered his body. Every night as my mom tucked me into bed, we would pray for Uncle Wes and this gross sickness he had gotten. Within a year, he had entered remission and at a delightfully young age I learned the power of prayer. Years passed and my uncle had the pleasure of watching his kids grow up into young men. The summer after my eighth grade year my mom explained to me that Uncle Wes was sick again. I did not cry, or get angry, or sad. I just prayed. After two years of surgery after surgery and treatment after treatment, that gross sickness took my Uncle Wes. My last words to him had been “Merry Christmas” and I was left with no goodbye. It was a Tuesday, and as I sat in the pews of the church I refused to let the tears come. I had to be strong and tears were for the weak.

            Sarah and I had gone to school together since the sixth grade. We were not particularly close, but we shared similar friends and had a mutual respect for each other. At the end of our freshmen year, Sarah was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia. I was devastated. I had watched this evil take over my family and my uncle, and now it was living in a friend and taking over her family and loved ones. Immediately, I began to pray and send Sarah e-mails weekly with encouraging verses and passages. Sarah battle the cancer her entire sophomore year, entering remission that next summer after a bone marrow transplant. Junior year came around, and she was enrolled in classes with us, ready to start a new year. A couple weeks into the school year, the cancer had returned and stronger. Chemotherapy and radiation would not do the trick, and the doctor ordered another bone marrow transplant. It was the week before Christmas break, and Sarah had been recovering from treatment when her kidneys began to shut down. We never lost hope, and neither did Sarah; She was a fighter. On Christmas morning, Sarah’s body failed her and she went home to be with the Lord. The day we celebrate the Savior’s birth, and our gateway to salvation, we said goodbye to a friend. Sarah never complained about being sick. She never asked “why me?” or questioned God’s plans for her life. And just like that, she was gone.

            If it had been up to me, I would have swept this loss with all the others under the rug and walked away. Tears were not worth my time, and neither was dealing with it. Thank God that he had a different plan. Allison Rayburn was just another Young Life leader on a Monday night, but she saw the heartache I had buried deep inside me. She took the time to invest into my life, meeting with me over coffee and prying my feelings out. Teaching me the art of crying, and its healing powers. She walked through Sarah’s death with me and was a consistent outlet for prayer. I learned healthy ways to let my frustration and sadness out. God wants a real relationship with us, and that includes when we are mad, sad and angry. Running became my release, and time I could let out my frustration to God. Hiking was a time to enjoy nature and its healing power. I would even go and simply sit at Sarah’s headstone, talking to her and God and thinking through life and its complications. God used running, hiking, resting, and even serving as practical ways for healing.

            After losing Sarah, I began to read through the Shack. I would hide away in my room, and let the tears come. Most times, once they started, I had trouble getting them to stop. Sunday’s became my crying days. After church I would cuddle up in my bed, reading the book, and letting my heart ache. William P. Young wrote, “Don't ever discount the wonder of your tears. They can be healing waters and a stream of joy. Sometimes they are the best words the heart can speak." There is no doubt it has been a long journey, and far from easy. Some days I was not sure it was worth the work, but only God can take the hardest parts of life and turn them into something he can use.

Just another Saturday morning

Just another Saturday morning...
or not so much.

How often are we so self-centered that we miss the greatest opportunities that God could grant us? We become so narrow-minded, we have tunnel vision, and we are completely unaware to those around us and the needs that are so great.

God blesses us, SO we can bless others.

Just a thought as I sit up, what seems like way to earlier, waiting for Bryn to get her MRI....

Things to do before I die....

This started off as an assignment for my freshmen coarse and I figured I keep up with it. :)

Fifty Things to Do (or Be) before I die:

.                Become a doctor

.               Run a marathon

.           Work at a summer camp

.              Go on a mission trip to Uganda

.                Provide medical care to underprivileged in Africa

.              Read the entirety of the bible

.           Learn to play the piano well

.             Learn to adequately play the guitar

.              Beyond Malibu

.                Win a race

.         Start an organization to help teenagers with cancer

.        Post a blog once a week

.    Change someone’s life for the better

.   Fluently speak another language

.        Adopt from Africa

.       Be able to touch my toes

.                 Forgive my dad

.   Hike the entire pacific crest trail

.   Go sailing

.       Go to Europe

.             Take in a homeless youth

.             Learn to be patient in manner

.         Compete in mathematics

.            Own a Jeep

.             Compete in a triathlon

.                Hike all three sisters (South, middle and north)

.        Have the financial means to give where God leads. (I find joy in giving)

.          Sell everything and live in a third world country

.           Scuba dive

.          Donate blood every eight weeks as my body allows

.                 Be a blood marrow donor

.                 Save someone’s life

.            Fall so in love with Jesus that I do not need anything else to be secure.
.      Sing a worship song in front of a congregation
.     Watch my brother win a snowboarding competition.
.    Learn how to fly a plane
.     Speak at a conference for teens
.     Run a sub 21minute 5k.
.     Swim with a dolphin
.     Learn how to dance
.     Watch a meteor shower.
.     Watch the stars all night from the roof.
.     Have definable abs
.     Set foot in all seven continents
.     Learn how to surf
.      Learn how to play tennis
.     save enough money to put my kids and grandkids through college
.     Ride in a hot air balloon.
.     Go on a safari.
.     Graduate college with a 4.0