It's becoming more apparent that Your painful truths and heart wrenching wisdom are becoming the motivation and joy of my life. I remember praying earnestly with them for You to show up and do something amazing. I remember asking to be used for Your glory and hoping for miracles. But while they were so excited for what You might do, I was the only one, it seemed, who asked You how it could be done.
In pain. In inconvenience. In sacrifice. In letting my plans and schedules fall into the fire.
He talked about living in Your will this week. And it reminded me. The truth is I haven't given it much thought lately, and I've been missing You. But You've been showing up all over the place, Love. In each bird You send me. In a German flag on the car in front of mine. In opportunities I might otherwise pass up with excuses if I didn't feel You leading me.
I looked at her brokenness and saw myself all those months ago. I looked at her anger and frustration and it was like looking into a mirror of the past. I let her scream and fight with those she loved because I knew it was what she needed at the moment- to be angry. I didn't let her apologize for being human, just like the light You sent my way didn't let me. And during that drive I found You riding next to me, between us. And You told me to pay attention. And I noticed.
There have been intricate doorways carved in places I overlooked; stepping stones to get to this moment that I didn't realize I was walking on. In the sea of apathy, You gave me dry land of silent understanding and simple notice. Those steps led Us to speak to something so much deeper than her circumstances of this week.
I realized something. You set me up. But it was a setup I could only welcome with open hands and a prayerful heart.
I'm grateful for Your grace, Daddy. I'm thankful that You show up in the strangest places during our most unhappy circumstances. I'm happy to be inconvenienced for Your glory, Love.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Sunday, May 19, 2013
The Purpose of Grace
I have trouble accepting that all people are different. The way we speak, learn, prioritize, communicate, feel love... No two people are alike. The things that hurt us, the things that move us, what makes us feel inspired- it's different for each of us. This is why grace is so important, and I feel myself forgetting it. I'm impatient; I become so frustrated because I've failed to communicate well. In my inability to communicate in love, I cause pain for those I love. I feel anger in myself. I can't change them. I must change my desire for them to be like me. I need to learn the art of graceful speaking. I'm too busy trying to make them just like me, that I miss out on the beauty of who they are, who you've made them to be, Love. I am so caught up on the need to be understood, that I misunderstand them. And the misunderstandings lead to conflict, and the conflict leads to bitterness, and that bitterness becomes a divide I never intended. The variety you've surrounded me with is astounding. The diversity in all my world is a sign of how awesome you are. You were first a creator, I can't forget that. And your creative spirit is all around me, but I reject it. I'm sorry that I've let this contradiction surface. I like to believe I love your creation in its entirety. I like to believe that I love the different people I encounter daily. But can I call myself a lover of those I try so desperately to change? I am selfish. Because my purpose has not been to see them change so they can be closer to you. My intentions- as subconscious as they might be- has been to change them so that I can be more comfortable. Why do I ache so badly for comfort? I reflect on your 40 days in the wilderness, I recall that you had no place to lay your head, I envision your prayer in the garden, and I cry at the memory of you nailed to a cross... I am reminded that you never sought comfortable. You sought change at the expense of being inconvenienced. You sought the redemption of others by being offered up in brokenness. Who am I that I should expect something easy and simple? Who am I to demand that others be as I wish them to be? I am nothing. I am dirt, and I only exist because you've given grace for me to do so. I want to be compassionate, but it only comes by dying to my will. Only in wanting nothing can I have everything I truly need. I want to appreciate them, but that only comes in loving who they already are. Please forgive me of my foolish attempt to make us all the same.
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Abstraction Along the Alster
It's been so long since I've given you time... Time to break me, change me, or cause me to question. I have so many decisions to make... but they're all meaningless without you. Only a crazy person would sit in this cold to write. But maybe I'm just crazy enough to think you'll meet me here in the snow and ice. Maybe I'm crazy enough to believe that what we had can be recovered. Maybe I'm hoping you'll meet me where the outside finally matches the inside. Maybe I hope in this crazy numbness you'll help me feel again.
This city is beautiful. The language is a mystery. The people are broken... but none of that has come to mind in three days. I've neglected to ask you what you want. That's why I'm losing myself here instead of finding you. She said a part of her still loves me, but I'm not the girl she remembers. I can't be that girl again though. I am different because of you. That's all I know. And to go back to the girl she loved would be turning my back on you. I'm going to lose her. I have become aware of that. But it breaks me.
Getting lost in a place like this is comforting. I feel like it gives the opportunity to ponder, to reflect. When the snow falls around me, there's something mystical about it. Like maybe living a little lost is okay. I've never felt like an outsider. I remember that conversation we had about what it means to be a citizen of Heaven; how not belonging to this world is supposed to make me so different. I've always lived my life trying to fit in, meet expectations, fill a certain role... here, I have no role. I am only a wanderer. a foreigner, getting lost in foreign phrases and letting instinct take me where it wills. This is how it should feel at home; this is what you're teaching me.
I didn't know where I was going today but I managed to find where I needed to be. The perfect metaphor of my life- always going and never knowing, yet somehow figuring it out. You sent me another bird, a reminder that I am going where I should. A bird to tell me it's okay to let go, to let you take control. In the midst of all of this discovery, broken glass still lays around me. Shattered pieces of things long forgotten, dreams released into the frigid wind. And somehow I'm not afraid of being pierced and left bleeding. You're calling me back, and effortlessly, parts of me are returning. But parts of me are clinging still to a love long gone that I can't say goodbye to. I am torn and worn out, but ultimately I know what I need to do. Will I, though?
You told me I would come here long before the opportunity came. And you intricately carved doorways in the abyss of yesterday. I followed what I felt was you when everyone else said I was wrong. But I know I've done things wrong to get here. How do I do what's right when it feels wrong? How do I accept inevitable pain to bring about what you've planned for me? How do I suffer well while no one else appears to suffer? Can I trust you with the pain of dying again?
Deutschland- my dream from you. To see bar rooms emptied and churches full, to see Bibles in the hands of students instead of cigarettes. To find truth for a nation that sparked so much change in your kingdom. Am I willing to be revolutionary? Do I love Germany with your heart or only mine? What is the difference?
I need you to change my perspective of loss, of being lost, of losing. Teach me to trust that you're not taking anything from me, but that you're giving me the chance to make room for something better. Show me that this is one way you love me. I need to know I'm not alone right now.
3/26/13
This city is beautiful. The language is a mystery. The people are broken... but none of that has come to mind in three days. I've neglected to ask you what you want. That's why I'm losing myself here instead of finding you. She said a part of her still loves me, but I'm not the girl she remembers. I can't be that girl again though. I am different because of you. That's all I know. And to go back to the girl she loved would be turning my back on you. I'm going to lose her. I have become aware of that. But it breaks me.
Getting lost in a place like this is comforting. I feel like it gives the opportunity to ponder, to reflect. When the snow falls around me, there's something mystical about it. Like maybe living a little lost is okay. I've never felt like an outsider. I remember that conversation we had about what it means to be a citizen of Heaven; how not belonging to this world is supposed to make me so different. I've always lived my life trying to fit in, meet expectations, fill a certain role... here, I have no role. I am only a wanderer. a foreigner, getting lost in foreign phrases and letting instinct take me where it wills. This is how it should feel at home; this is what you're teaching me.
I didn't know where I was going today but I managed to find where I needed to be. The perfect metaphor of my life- always going and never knowing, yet somehow figuring it out. You sent me another bird, a reminder that I am going where I should. A bird to tell me it's okay to let go, to let you take control. In the midst of all of this discovery, broken glass still lays around me. Shattered pieces of things long forgotten, dreams released into the frigid wind. And somehow I'm not afraid of being pierced and left bleeding. You're calling me back, and effortlessly, parts of me are returning. But parts of me are clinging still to a love long gone that I can't say goodbye to. I am torn and worn out, but ultimately I know what I need to do. Will I, though?
You told me I would come here long before the opportunity came. And you intricately carved doorways in the abyss of yesterday. I followed what I felt was you when everyone else said I was wrong. But I know I've done things wrong to get here. How do I do what's right when it feels wrong? How do I accept inevitable pain to bring about what you've planned for me? How do I suffer well while no one else appears to suffer? Can I trust you with the pain of dying again?
Deutschland- my dream from you. To see bar rooms emptied and churches full, to see Bibles in the hands of students instead of cigarettes. To find truth for a nation that sparked so much change in your kingdom. Am I willing to be revolutionary? Do I love Germany with your heart or only mine? What is the difference?
I need you to change my perspective of loss, of being lost, of losing. Teach me to trust that you're not taking anything from me, but that you're giving me the chance to make room for something better. Show me that this is one way you love me. I need to know I'm not alone right now.
3/26/13
Sunday, March 10, 2013
Make a Mess of Reality
I'm afraid our world has forgotten grace. Whispers, stares, and crooked looks- why can't we learn love? We all carry our past in bags sealed so tightly. Our stories are shoved in boxes placed on shelves we never dust off. We hide our realities from those we encounter daily... We plaster on smiles, and force ourselves to conform to what "they" tell us is appropriate. What if we decided to be honest? What if we decided vulnerability was admirable? What if tears were as commonly shared as laughter? What if we let ourselves unpack a little and let ourselves be real? I want to know your story. I want to love your story. I don't understand where we learn to judge so readily. Our world assumes, it never asks questions. It hastens to conclusions before the plot unfolds. Tell me a story, tell it from the beginning. And don't leave out the parts you're so afraid for this world to see. Because those are the parts that led you here, that made you who you are. No one can know light if they haven't been trapped in darkness. No one can know freedom without first being chained. It's pain that teaches us what joy is. It's brokenness that leads us to appreciate restoration. I don't want to only know the glory of today. I want to know the fragile pieces that made yesterday worth leaving behind. We all have stories. We all know heartache. We all know what it means to be human. But we live in a world that refuses to forgive us of our humanity. Can we forgive each other of being mortal and move past these masks we wear? Can we love each other enough to make peace of messy truths, instead of respecting each other too much to ask questions that could encourage us to reflect? I want to make a mess of reality.
Friday, January 25, 2013
Burning Gardens
We danced in fields of red roses. You spun me in circles until laughter flooded my spirit... pouring out in visions laden with sunlight and grass as green as healing emerald. I knew not where we were going. I knew not what tomorrow would look like. But I trusted in the strength of your arms, and in my childlike hope, believed we'd forever dance in these fields....
But winter came. And red turned brown. And roses died. And we were left standing on only thorns. With bloody feet, I walked with you, though. Because I knew true love meant for better or worse. In pain we suffered together with nothing but the memory of summer to cling to. And with each step you promised spring, so I kept walking. And I am walking still. Waiting for the breeze to turn warm again...
They are pointing, laughing, staring, wondering why I chase you with these bloody feet and thorns. But I tell them I remember summer. And I remember fields of bright red roses. I remember the warmth I felt, our heart racing, beating as one... And I know that it must return. Because seasons have a way of changing... scars have a way of healing. I must believe we'll taste the salt of summer again. And I must believe that we will dance again in gardens sweetly smelling of moments more beautiful than any cut could be ugly.
You will return to me in a summer rain and show me that you never really left. You will prove to me that the cold was only distracting me. I am enduring winter for the hope of spring. But I can only endure it because you are beside me. I am walking on thorns, but believing I'm walking towards our roses once again... good things have a way of returning. And the best things make the worst no longer matter.
So in this winter, I will wrap you like a coat around my freezing shoulders, and I'll let you warm me with a fire of our dead roses. I will wait for the blazing sun of summer. I wait because I know it's coming. You're going to show me beauty once again, and these cold ashes will be forgotten.
But winter came. And red turned brown. And roses died. And we were left standing on only thorns. With bloody feet, I walked with you, though. Because I knew true love meant for better or worse. In pain we suffered together with nothing but the memory of summer to cling to. And with each step you promised spring, so I kept walking. And I am walking still. Waiting for the breeze to turn warm again...
They are pointing, laughing, staring, wondering why I chase you with these bloody feet and thorns. But I tell them I remember summer. And I remember fields of bright red roses. I remember the warmth I felt, our heart racing, beating as one... And I know that it must return. Because seasons have a way of changing... scars have a way of healing. I must believe we'll taste the salt of summer again. And I must believe that we will dance again in gardens sweetly smelling of moments more beautiful than any cut could be ugly.
You will return to me in a summer rain and show me that you never really left. You will prove to me that the cold was only distracting me. I am enduring winter for the hope of spring. But I can only endure it because you are beside me. I am walking on thorns, but believing I'm walking towards our roses once again... good things have a way of returning. And the best things make the worst no longer matter.
So in this winter, I will wrap you like a coat around my freezing shoulders, and I'll let you warm me with a fire of our dead roses. I will wait for the blazing sun of summer. I wait because I know it's coming. You're going to show me beauty once again, and these cold ashes will be forgotten.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Seeing Things Your Way
We asked you to show us your glory, but then I felt you say, "Share in my suffering." And I had to question if I still wanted to see your glory if suffering was the cost. We prayed for miracles, that you would empower us to pursue people, reach out, and impact lives. But then I felt you say, "it's going to hurt." And I know I have never liked pain.
I don't think I'm becoming negative. I am happy right now and I am ready to take part in the bigger picture and let you use me. But then what is this? I feel you telling me these thoughts aren't mine. I feel you telling me it's your perspective. It's prophetic.
Prophetic words aren't popular and they're not always easily accepted.... yes we want your glory and yes we want to see miracles. But are we willing to pay the price? Are we willing to face the suffering that may come? Are we willing to die for it?
What will it take to see you move?
And you told me, "The commitment to be available." I am going to be interrupted. My pretty, neat, color-coded schedule will be revised against my will. It will be inconvenient. It will take patience. Am I going to trust you when it gets difficult? Will I become a servant and put the needs of others above my agenda? I want to be willing to put my life on pause to see your kingdom come.
"The pinnacle of Christianity is not leadership, it's Me" I felt you urging me to tell them. And I realized how blessed I am to serve alongside people humble enough to seek You over their own glory. I know the humility and courage it is taking them to step down and draw closer to you. I know because it's the humility and courage I didn't have 2 years ago. I know how much you love them for this, dear one, and I pray they know it too. I want that kind of humility. I am reminded that what I am chasing is not a title, it's not a country, it's not a leadership position... it's You. I am chasing You, and my influence is directly proportional to the intentional time I devote to knowing You. Don't let me forget.
I don't think I'm becoming negative. I am happy right now and I am ready to take part in the bigger picture and let you use me. But then what is this? I feel you telling me these thoughts aren't mine. I feel you telling me it's your perspective. It's prophetic.
Prophetic words aren't popular and they're not always easily accepted.... yes we want your glory and yes we want to see miracles. But are we willing to pay the price? Are we willing to face the suffering that may come? Are we willing to die for it?
What will it take to see you move?
And you told me, "The commitment to be available." I am going to be interrupted. My pretty, neat, color-coded schedule will be revised against my will. It will be inconvenient. It will take patience. Am I going to trust you when it gets difficult? Will I become a servant and put the needs of others above my agenda? I want to be willing to put my life on pause to see your kingdom come.
"The pinnacle of Christianity is not leadership, it's Me" I felt you urging me to tell them. And I realized how blessed I am to serve alongside people humble enough to seek You over their own glory. I know the humility and courage it is taking them to step down and draw closer to you. I know because it's the humility and courage I didn't have 2 years ago. I know how much you love them for this, dear one, and I pray they know it too. I want that kind of humility. I am reminded that what I am chasing is not a title, it's not a country, it's not a leadership position... it's You. I am chasing You, and my influence is directly proportional to the intentional time I devote to knowing You. Don't let me forget.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Redemption
Your sweet redemption is flooding my heart, inviting me back into the passions I've been stifling. You are reminding me of how faithful you are. I thought when I said yes to you ten months ago, that the door was slammed on my past and nothing from before you would matter in the slightest. I convinced myself that my past was erased entirely and non-existent. And while it's easier to believe that and just move forward, I realize it would be against your character not to give my past meaning.
And to do that, you must extract intricate pieces out of yesterday and make them good today; because you work all things for good to those who love you and who are called according to your purpose.
I thought my love for Africa was gone forever. I thought I could never serve you in ministry because I had blown it so badly before. I thought my failures in the past would determine my future. But you're reminding me that it has nothing to do with me at all.
"My word does not return void, Gabby."
I foolishly convinced myself that everything spoken over my life meant nothing because my heart was not yours.
"You may not have been mine yet, but I was still God then. And I'm still God now."
I am being given freedom to believe in the power of Your word. You said to ask for the nations and I did. But before I asked out of greed and pride. Now I ask in fear and trembling- brokenness- as I accept that I can do nothing.
It's been prophesied that I would have a 7-fold ministry, that I would be a "voice to the nations," that I would go to Africa and that hundreds of thousands would come to know you because of my testimony. You gave me a vision- you said "go" and I asked "where" until you showed me that small African hut and my heart heard you whisper Sudan.
All of that, and I still didn't call you Lord.
But that's the beauty of it. It has nothing to do with me at all.
It amazes me on one hand how you would still use me after the mistakes I've made. After all of the backsliding, all of the guilt, all of the lies and all of the decisions I could have made differently... You still look at me and say I can play a part in this redemptive story. But on the other hand, I realize this is just like you and I'm not surprised. The same way you used Peter and Paul, you are able to use me. You have always been in the business of taking what everyone has casted out and giving it purpose.
You are taking the foolish to confound the wise. You are calling the outcasts to bring a revolution. You are asking those who've hurt so many to be a vessel of hope and healing. I love your contradictions.
I'm humbled that you still see purpose where I see pointless.
I'm amazed that you still never call the able, but decide to enable the called.
And to do that, you must extract intricate pieces out of yesterday and make them good today; because you work all things for good to those who love you and who are called according to your purpose.
I thought my love for Africa was gone forever. I thought I could never serve you in ministry because I had blown it so badly before. I thought my failures in the past would determine my future. But you're reminding me that it has nothing to do with me at all.
"My word does not return void, Gabby."
I foolishly convinced myself that everything spoken over my life meant nothing because my heart was not yours.
"You may not have been mine yet, but I was still God then. And I'm still God now."
I am being given freedom to believe in the power of Your word. You said to ask for the nations and I did. But before I asked out of greed and pride. Now I ask in fear and trembling- brokenness- as I accept that I can do nothing.
It's been prophesied that I would have a 7-fold ministry, that I would be a "voice to the nations," that I would go to Africa and that hundreds of thousands would come to know you because of my testimony. You gave me a vision- you said "go" and I asked "where" until you showed me that small African hut and my heart heard you whisper Sudan.
All of that, and I still didn't call you Lord.
But that's the beauty of it. It has nothing to do with me at all.
It amazes me on one hand how you would still use me after the mistakes I've made. After all of the backsliding, all of the guilt, all of the lies and all of the decisions I could have made differently... You still look at me and say I can play a part in this redemptive story. But on the other hand, I realize this is just like you and I'm not surprised. The same way you used Peter and Paul, you are able to use me. You have always been in the business of taking what everyone has casted out and giving it purpose.
You are taking the foolish to confound the wise. You are calling the outcasts to bring a revolution. You are asking those who've hurt so many to be a vessel of hope and healing. I love your contradictions.
I'm humbled that you still see purpose where I see pointless.
I'm amazed that you still never call the able, but decide to enable the called.
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