We must be broken if we ever want to be put back together, to become whole.
I wholly don't like this breaking process (let's just be real, here).
But this is a process in which I've found myself a lot these days.

I've been undergoing a major transition in my life recently.  And college these days? Oh, it's (honestly) been way worse than I expected.  But because of that, it is way better than I could have dreamed. <<and that my friends, is just the start of a whole other post...>>

In the thick of things, though, we can feel lost sometimes.  We can feel incredibly vulnerable and weak and powerless and frustrated and empty.

That's where I've been these last few months.
God's been working in my heart so much that I've (frankly) wanted Him to stop.  I was so stinkin' sick of the painful process called growth.

I'm afraid that this resulted in a lack of words flowing out.  I kept them all inside.  Although I'm not going to explain all the reasons for this, I will say that I currently have thirty-nine drafts, a notebook dedicated to ideas and random thoughts, and a whole lot of writing to do.

The rest of this post, though, is an unedited outflow that I wrote in the thick of things.  It's been sitting in the drafts untouched for about two months.  I seriously debated whether to share it because the note it ends on (well) reflects the full pain and struggle of this growth process.

But I decided to post.
Because life isn't perfect, and sometimes the reality of the mess serves to highlight the reality of a Savior.

I decided to post because I am afraid.  And I'm learning that running right into this fear is something I need to do in certain areas right now.  But I decided to post because I'm also choosing hope: choosing the hope that maybe (just maybe) somebody else on the other end of the screen needs this candor as badly as my soul needed to write out the words.

Here's to honesty, then, and to honestly recognizing the One who is in control of the process.

____________________________________________________________________________________

What do you do when you're perpetually discontent?

When your mind is always prone to wonder - to desire that which is better and brighter and bigger and clearer and more glamorous and more fun and more fulfilling?

What do you do when you're perpetually discontent?
When you're always searching, never happy with where you are?

Well, I can tell you what you do.
You feel the life getting sucked out of you. slowly, but like an ever present, steady ebb that is physically draining the very life and essence of life out of your soul.

Well, I can tell you what you do.
You soak in unhappiness. You return to places of nagging thoughts.

It always can be better.
It always can be more thorough.

Something else would always be more fulfilling.
Something else would always be giving you what you finally want.

Someone else would be more fun.
Someplace else would finally give you what you truly desire.

A constant searching.  An ever present restlessness.

Well, I can tell you what you do.

You wonder.

You wonder if you're actually good at anything, for what you love becomes hard and its value seems to fade.  You wonder as what you once hoped for no longer seems so important.  You wonder who exactly you are and why you are and why you are here and here you are why.

The introspection that plagues.  It hurts; it hurts our soul.

Then why I do not stop that which is causing me pain? Why do I repeatedly do that which I know is not good and do not do that which I know I should?

(Oh) I don't know.  (Oh) how I hate those words.

How everything else always seems like it would be better.
How everyone else seems to be more happy.
Oh, how it seems like I would be happier if only and when and then.

I am so sick of it.
but apparently not sick enough.

i need Jesus, yet I feel so flawed to try and even describe my brokenness.

I don't exactly know where to turn, who to turn to, how to let this out.

I'm scared.  (to bear myself, to be myself, to find myself).
I'm flawed.  (feeling my failures and mistakes).

I am so tired.
so void of strength.
so sick of this cycle.

I don't know.  I don't understand.  I just want somebody to see.  I just want somebody to really care.  I just want somebody to see and understand and speak and affirm.

so maybe, then, i should seek to see and understand and affirm.
so maybe, then, i should learn how to jsit do it.
so maybe, then, i should choose to focus on truth.

i am so sick of not measuring up to my own standards.
im sick of having to make my own standards.
im sick of having to do it all myself.
im sick of this utter dependency on myself.

i. just. want. to. be free.

(to have something that actually feels like a success. to feel the fruit of something. to have a tangible).

this hurts, God.  I've actually worked myself to the point of tears.  i need You.  i need your direction.  I need you.  (Oh) I need You.

im tired of having to figure things out on my own.
to do it all on my own.

i just can't.
im tired of having to pick myself up.

this hurts, God.

Yeah. Somebody has said it before:
anybody can start (it just might be the easiest thing in the world to do).  but finishing? (yeah, that takes true strength).

I have a confession.

I'm a starter.
New project? New school? New idea? Spontaneous decision?
Yeah. I'm so on it.

Starting is great, but that's just the thing; it was never meant to be an end in itself.

I think it's fair to say that we all make commitments of some kind or another.  (You might be committed to attending a certain school, preforming a certain job, living in a certain city).

But making a commitment is just first step.
It's an exciting (and sometimes glamorous) step.

But in the glamour and excitement, it's easy to lose sight of the fact that a whole pathway lies ahead.

We've stepped onto the path; we've made a commitment.  
We might start down the path for a while and see how we like it.

Yeah, often we simply don't like it.  Then, we must choose.

We can keep walking, anyway.
We can choose to go back to where we came from.
We can veer away and walk a different path.
We can refuse to go any further and just sit down on the path.
We can close our eyes, and just pretend that the path isn't even there.

Honestly, I think I've done a little of all three at times, but it's the closing of our eyes that's hitting me the hardest.

Maybe it's not so much a closing of our physical eyes but a closing of our heart.

We're walking down paths that God has placed us on.
Things don't go as we like and sure aren't what we think they should be,
so we respond.
We often just close our eyes and try to shut out this calling, these tasks that God is clearly leading us in and toward.

In reality, we're closing our eyes to what God is doing around us.  what He wants to show us.  the sights he wants to reveal to us.  the heights that we can't even imagine.

Sometimes, we can't image these heights because it feels like we are in a valley.
And sometimes, that's exactly where we are.

but who ever said that we are there alone?

Because that's just the thing.

We've started.
We are on the path of certain commitments, and we are following God on this ultimate road He has for us.
We get frustrated.  We hit rock-bottom valleys.
We close our eyes, and blind our hearts to not only the joys of where He's leading but to who He is and the delight from that alone.

We start, but we stubbornly refuse to finish.  We refuse to do the hard work of keep-on-keeping-oning.

Maybe, what we really need to do is remember.

Remember that where God calls, He's going to equip you to go.
Remember that where God calls, He's going to go with you.
Remember that where God calls, we have to buckle down and actually do the going.
Remember that we must be faithful.

(Oh), I have a confession.

I stopped liking my path; I wanted off.  I didn't want to engage.  I wanted to change - to change something. myself. the path. my thoughts about the path. the destination of the path. the feelings along the way.

But maybe it's not so much about whether we like the path but how much we like the Creator of the path - how much we trust and are committed to Him.

If we truly had a deep, trusting love of Him, wouldn't we be satisfied with whatever path He chooses to send us on simply because He sent it? and simply because He promises Himself each step of the way? 

 It's the condition of our heart and not the direction of our hearts that need to change.

Oh Lord, help us, Your stubborn, blinded people.
Give us the faithfulness to delight in You -
because it's all about You and not our momentarily little paths, anyway.

Let's be finishers.
I have a confession: I haven't always been a whole-hearted finisher.

But I have a confession: it will be this way no longer.

because I'm coming back.

“How am I doing? Ah, that’s quite the question.”

I lean forward, elbow resting on the edge of the light brown table - the table with the edges that have always seemed so crisp. so precise. so final.

“How am I doing…” my voice trails off, I know.  It trails off even as my thoughts seem to start on the trail and end on the off.  They seem to fall straight off the edge of the table yet remain on the floor as a cold, grey orb that I have to decipher and which I simply cannot seem to evade.

“How am I doing…” the orb sits there, anything but so crisp, precise, or final like the table from which it has fallen.

“Yeah, that’s my question, Deborah.” The grey, orb-like eyes search into me.  They’re seekers’ eyes that are at the door, at the door to my reality; they are waiting to see if the door is opened.  I can just tell, though.  They’re the eyes of one who will not bull-doze if the latch is slid open; they’re the eyes of those who will flood the entry with a torrent of warm care yet piercing truth.

I inhale. “Well, I doing…”

So much has been flooding my heart and mind in this doing that I feel incapable: incapable to articulate or discern what’s in this orb of dense thoughts, feelings, emotions, and subconscious realities that are beginning to emerge.

I’m afraid.  Afraid that if I try to articulate, it will all just come tumbling out in incomprehensible nonsense.  That these thoughts aren’t normal.  That I’m not normal. 

I’m afraid.  I’m afraid to bare my soul because my soul could be found lacking.  It could be not as special as I once believed it to be.  It could be just too different from the hearts of those around me.  It could be exposed and abused (but really sometimes I’m just confused).

You see, I know life is a journey, and we are constantly in the motion of such a quest.  Yet, here I am, just longing to feel the solid peace of a rest: something stable, something sure, something external from me.

Whatever I choose to pursue is that which is going to be pursued, and this is a heavy responsibility. 

To have your life in your hands — oh, how I am encountering my deepest fear.

I seem to hold oh so much of the power.  This means I can mess it up, or I can take it and run.  And I always envisioned myself running.  bold.  brave.  with passion. 

Sometimes, I just got to let it out.  to let it breathe.  to enable it to live.  to fan the flame.  to do the work that needs to be done.

“How am I doing?”

I’m learning to live in the incomplete.  No, I do dare say more.  I am learning to love life in the incomplete; I’m learning to embrace life.  Life’s messy.  I’ve got a ridiculous lot of questions right now.  Actually, my questions have questions that I don’t even know about.  But I need space to think and need grace with myself.  Yet I cannot get so locked inside that I refuse to be me — to let myself develop into who I am as I seek to pour into the development of who others are.

I’m learning to embrace and engage.  Whatever is sent on my path - I’ve got to embrace it (no matter if I like what’s in front of me).  I’m learning to engage with my whole heart; otherwise, the moments slip by and the days turn into months and life turns into death and living was actually more like dying.

I’m learning life.  How can one learn something like this?  Well, it’s something that we all must do, and maybe we simply have the choice to do it consciously or subconsciously.  I, for one, will tackle this bad boy head on; yeah, it hurts, and you can’t always tell the bigger picture of what you’re wrestling when you're caught up dealing with one part of the body at a time.  But wait, there’s more coming if you just keep fighting.  The big picture is there; you can sense it.  It might just be around the next psychological corner if only you’ll hang in there.  When God’s doing His work, just embrace it.

I’m learning that life is good and God is good and - maybe - it’s a natural progression that God is life — something maybe I’ve been too foolish, stubborn, and proud to fully understand and deeply embrace before.

I’m learning that my heart can be satisfied.  And oh what a glorious satisfaction it is where I am satisfied in all that my Savior is — just satisfied because He is God.  He is good, and He’s got it all in control.  This is a deep satisfaction, unrelated to externals, but it’s where my internal is full and enabled to be awakened in a whole new way.

"How am I doing?" 

I'm learning to break into the presence of my Savior and to find life in Him.
That is how I'm doing.
That is life.

It’s gold.

It sits on the carpet-squared floor where more dirty feet have tread than I sometimes care to think about.  You see, each unique foot was attached to each unique person with each unique strand of DNA and each unique story from each unique heart that that DNA helped form.

It’s gold and slightly to the left, but it’s reflective.
I can actually see my face as my forehead bumps into the bottom tip of continental Africa.

It’s gold, slightly to the left, and reflecting more than just the face of a student fumbling to make roots in a city unaccustomed.  It’s shows the gold of a laptop case, the neck of a black guitar, and the entire window-poster of another city on a coast nowhere near such current golden reflections.

It’s gold, and it’s reflecting hope.

Hope of a world yet unexplored by this pair of two feet.  Hope of stories yet un-typed by these ten fingers.  Hope of songs yet unsung by this one voice.  Hope of a city yet uninhabited by this one individual with unique strands of DNA.

It’s reflecting hope,
but hope cannot be recognized unless it has a boldly contrasting surface on which to be reflected.

Me.
Maybe it’s being reflected, actually, onto me.

A combination of DNA and genes and spirit and flesh and ideas and hopes and dreams and doubts and confusion and good-intentions and exhaustion and fears and beliefs and frustrations and deep worries and underlying desires.

A combination of a love of words and a despising of words, of addiction to change and terror of discomfort, of a love of revealing and yet an obsession of being hidden and still unknown.

Aha.
(It often comes out through the words, you see).

Of a love of revealing and yet an obsession of being hidden and still unknown.

Me.
The one whose heart sings songs:
songs that sometimes pulse so intently that I cannot discern the exact lyrics
songs that I long to sing out so they reach other hearts
songs I long to sing the message so sweet that the feet start to move and change is unlocked.

Me.
Who watches as much as she longs to do and feels things more deeply than she wishes,
Who knows that feeling things so deeply is a responsibility,
Who sometimes wishes it were a responsibility she could wish away.

Me, who sees her imperfections and tries and tries and thinks and tries not to try anyone.
Me, who feels this song but feels a deep desire to do anything but share this song.
Me, who is fumbling to learn how to live and fumbling to see the reality of the Giver of Life.

Me, who has entered a place, who feels still unknown, and who feels frustrated by this on the inhale and numbly content with it on the exhale (for, sometimes an unknown future is more welcome than an unwanted reality).

You see, it’s comforting to be still unknown because, then, you cannot be rejected for who you are revealed to actually be; you cannot fail because you have not ever stepped into the realm of the known.

You see, that’s selfishness.
That’s a deep form of self-obsession, compulsive control-mongering where joy is dead and life feels like death.

You see, that’s where a death is needed, but not a death of all things that point to and reflect glorious, golden hope; it’s a death of self that is needed.

It’s a death to the fear of being known, rejected, and exposed as lacking and failing.
It’s a death to the laziness and self-obsessive, selfish behaviors, habits, attitudes, and actions that try to stick this fear as glue onto the very mind and heart of humans.

It’s a death to self and an awakening to life.
It’s a trading of being still unknown for a being still to be known.

It’s a death to self and a taking on of humility that comes into the presence (His presence) in a state of surrender and is still.
It’s a coming into the presence and being open to what the King is doing, to listening and obeying moment by moment, breath by breath — realizing that this is enough. 

It’s a stepping into the presence in this open, courageous obedience to go further up and farther in, into the realms of a founded joy, hope, and peace and into the realms where the anti-hope reality of our flawed, broken DNA strand hearts become flooded with reflecting the hope of the King.

For this is life — soaking in the Story so that we may be fueled to fully embrace our stories as we walk along as residents never home but reflecting hope on the canvas of a world dark and needy.

This is death.  But (oh), this is life.

something new has started for me.

this time in my life has brought a lot of news, and i'm afraid that it's been giving my mind more news than it sometimes can handle.

people say that when you move to a new place, you change. things come at you that you didn't expect.  you are hit with the new - the new of the good and the bad.

this is a new palace where i believe God is going to work in incredible ways and do things that i can't even comprehend.

yet maybe that is where i am getting tripped up.

He's going to move in ways that I can't comprehend.

That means that.. I may not always be certain of where He's moving and how He is going to be moving next.

It means that I must sit and wait; I must sit in the place where I feel (frankly) a little helpless.

I am sitting and seeing so many opportunities, so many things that are open to me.  I am left to wonder, though, at where to go next and what to do next.

I am sitting and becoming a little impatient because I am not seeing the things I wish as fast as I wish.

This wants to lead to discouragement where I ask God why I'm waiting yet again (because sometimes an unknown future is better than an unwelcome reality).

What am I really waiting on, though?

I'm not waiting on myself to shape up and fix my problems.
I'm a weak, flawed human but am graced to be covered in grace.

Maybe it's not so much that I am covered in grace but that I must choose to let myself break into it.

I am feeling helpless to make my life become what I always wished it were, so I must break in my helpless weakness into His grace that is perfected in weakness.

I am feeling impatient as I want to blame God for not giving me what I want as quickly as I desire it, so I must break in my stubborn pride that is always demanding its way into the grace of Him who humbled Himself to become a servant for the flawed humans He loves.

I must choose to see that I cannot see what is ahead, but that is okay; I can see Him who is faithful.

He is faithful to complete what He has shown me, so I must be faithful to staying close to Him.  I must be faithful to let myself break into His grace.  I must be faithful to become a servant who is so in love with the One who is Love.

I must be faithful to wait on the One who made the stars.

He does not forget.

So, dear reader, why not wait on Him? Why not break into His grace?  Why not draw close to Him?

I encourage you, today: do not give up. do not give in to the lies that try to suffocate your joy. cling fast to the truth that will set you free. you can live in the joy that is your strength even as you wait.

Hold on to hope cause He's holding onto you. 

although i'm now adventuring in a new place, here is a post written during some of the "lasts."  If you struggle with wanting lasts to be bests, then this one might be just for you.


it's His presence.

i'm sitting on my bedroom floor, my back against my endtables-turned-dressers.
i'm sitting here with the sun slightly blocking my vision with my laptop resting on my shins as my Bible and Graceful: Letting Go of Your Try Hard Life by Emily P. Freeman sits in front of me.

this is a last.

it's the last saturday morning that i will be able to do this. here. just like old times.

i've been having a lot of these lasts lately.

i go to a babysitting joy for one last time.
i pop up unexpectedly at a friend's house and sit in her driveway as we talk for one last time.
i gather in a room full of people who all traveled to the Dominican Republic this summer as we talk about the lasting impressions of the trip for one last time.

i've been having a lot of these lasts lately (and i know that the next few days are going to be filled with a lot more).

with all these lasts parading by, i've gotten a little uptight.
i know that lasts are coming, and i so desperately want to make each last count.

i want to make the last week the best that it can be.
i want to make each moment be as maximized for preparation and beyond that it can be.

i've wanted the lasts to be bests so badly, that i've neglected something: His presence.

what makes the difference between burnout and strength despite feelings of emptiness?
what can give happiness even when certain things in life seem to not be as ideal as we'd like them?

it's Him.  it's His presence.

you see, i've been at the frustrated place:
the place where things just aren't turning out how i want them to
the place where time seems to continuously fall short
the place where my (ahem way too high) goals aren't met, and i place excessive blame on myself.

yet the place that i really need to be is at the feet of Jesus.

When we are being conscious of His presence, our vision is changed as our hearts are simply delighting in Him.

God is with us, so let's have joy even if a last isn't as "best" as you'd like.

God is good, so let's be intentional about following what He says out of an expression of our deep love of His goodness.

God is love, so let's let ourselves feel more and more each day the humbling love despite our inadequacies so that we pour out this love to those around us.

You see, we can choose joy.
Happiness is waiting right here if only we pick it up and if only we choose to hold on to it instead of our own frustrations.

You see, we are going to keep failing,
 but maybe our biggest failure is when we refuse to humble ourselves and find life through living in His presence.

i’ve reached a place now.
i’ve reached the place, i think i could say.

the timing seems all wrong.
it seems atrociously wrong.

but words have come alive in my soul again.
i’m feeling with a new clarity again,
and that’s something I've struggled to do for months and months.

i think i’m discerning through the doubts.
there will always be reasons not to act.
there will always be more information i can get before i decide to act.
there can always be alternative options.

but everything that we do in life requires sacrifice of one type or another.

it’s unavoidable.
even though some sacrifices may seem bigger than others, they’re all still choices made at the cost of making other choices.

maybe one of the biggest sacrifices is when we "refuse" to sacrifice -

when we think that we are staying safe, comfortable, or happy because we are choosing to not make certain hard, sacrificial choices.

it’s the times when we don’t take any action because we are afraid of what the action will cost us -
it’s the times when we take the safest course of action -
it’s the times when we don’t even try because it seems that we may fail (and fail greatly) -

it’s those times that we are blind: we don’t see that our refusal to make these hard choices is making our life harder in other ways.

passivity and lack of commitment is costing us time — time in which we could be making progress (whether personal, tangible, or other).

safety often is costing us the unknown — a place where we will find things around the corner that we didn’t even know were there because we refused to step out.

fear of failure is costing us times when we learn to fly (or time when we learn to fall into His grace). both are good. both are necessary.

one of the biggest sacrifices is when we "refuse" to sacrifice.

He’ll speak to your heart about sacrifices.. if you are willing to listen.
He is faithful to lead and to guide into sacrifices.. if you open your heart to Him and let Him bring you to a point where you are ready.

He is holy.
and the world is hurting.

who are we to refuse to sacrifice as we give in to our petty doubts?
what would it look like if we stepped past the doubts and kept our eyes on the magnificent power of our King?

well, i say let’s go find out.

God, i guess i'm here.

i’m here.

at the two weeks plus six days mark. (that sounds so much more weird than three weeks minus one day).

i'm here.

and i'm just hit with how i haven't actually always been here.

yeah, I've never been in this position of being this close to leaving for this new place before, but it’s more than that. i haven't always been present where i am.

i may be physically present, and i may even be focused on engaging with what is within my present.

but this i now see: i haven't always engaged with my whole heart as I’ve needed to do.

i can see my little self dancing around the kitchen floor in a northwestern minnesoatan direction, free & full, beaming joy, and coating the room in yellow that is invisible to the eye - a yellow that smells like the sun and feels like it’s silken rays.

i can see my adolescent self step into the school room and not realize the things that would start to step out of her through her years within those school walls.

i can see myself fumble into teenage-hood and fumble into tears, into pain, into questions.

i can see myself start to grow up and learn things that i guess growing up requires us to learn — or at least requires us to face and to choose if we will do the learning from the seeing, feeling, and knowing.

i see me.

i see me and see so much that i wish little me would have chosen to believe, would have chosen to focus on, would have chosen to hold on to, would have chosen to pursue.

yet i see that little me was so concerned with these very things: concerned with doing it right and seeing right and being right and not wasting life.

i see me.
and i see how unnecessarily complicated me has liked to make things.

yet i see not just the failings but the days dripping with the very essence of good itself -- days of dancing in the kitchen, running barefooted, doodling in the margins, ribstiking in the living room, and singing louder than my family wished i would.

i see life.

and maybe, as i sit here two weeks plus six days away, i’m a little afraid. uneasy. unsure.

because I don’t know exactly what living means.

is there one right way to live?
what does it mean to make the most out of my life?
how can i figure that out?
how do i find the strength to do it once i know?

I've been battling these questions in this microcosmic time where growth is seemingly exponential — which is glorious, but piercingly so.

and i can’t even explain the things the Lord is laying on my heart.
and i might be coming across as an obsessively introspective young person who just needs to get a grip.
and i might not be making as much of sense as i wish i could.

but i refuse to let that stop me, anymore.
but i refuse to not humble myself and share.
but i refuse to not let each word i type to be dripping with candor no matter how inadequate i may think the words to be.

because this living, though.

He’s drawing me to it and letting me ask questions:

what does it look like to learn to be happy every single day?
what kind of letting go does that mean?
and what kind of holding on to does that require instead?

i won't understate the importance of figuring such things out. i just wont' because having purpose and direction is what will set us on fire and create unstoppable forces.

((and it’s a glorious thing when we realize the deepest happiness is found in losing ourselves in delight of the King and following everything that means)).

i'm learning that this living means I'm needing to pour into that relationship with Him— to pour with trust and abandon to come alive on a new level.

it’s been a humbling summer. a stretching one. and now an intensely reflecting and processing one ((something that I have not been wanting to do)).

and i'm here in it -
in the middle of living while trying to find out what this living means.

i want to share with you the journey of finding life.

for this i am already seeing about living: life is meant to be shared.

so, i refuse to not share anyone.
i choose life, and i challenge you to do the same.

this “choosing life” may come in many different forms for you, but i challenge you to seek the Lord about it and ask Him to take you to a level even deeper of sold-out life for Him.

and i make it my aim to share my journey with you on this blog as we begin journeying together: together into life (and that life full).

<< "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full." >> ((Jn. 10:10).

We fail.  We choose badly, but we have grace because of our Lord. He has grace for our selfishness, for our wasted moments, and for our outbursts of anger.

Truth is: He knows that we are going to fail, sees the frailness of our humanness, and yet has chosen to love us and call us His children, anyway (John 3:16; 1 John 3:1).

In a world born and raised on grace, we shouldn't lose sight of the power of it.

This grace comes from the Maker of the stars (Genesis 1:16), the Author of the universe (Colossians 1:16), the Lord of lords (Revelation 19:16).

This grace is there every time, no matter how many times we fall into it.

So why not make that of life?

Make it full of falls into His grace, into His love, and into His truth instead of into our own confusion, condemnation, and anger.  

2. Choose to make.

 "Therefore be imitators of God, as beloved children” (Ephesians 5:1).

​What did He make of life?
​life​ for us, too, will so often be what we make of it.

So why not make it a time …

• to choose to see the good in situations and in people?
• to choose to focus on the lessons we are learning instead of counting the mistakes we are making?
• to fall into His grace and accept His love?  
• to live making the most of our time: to throw ourselves into delighting in our savior and following His lead in each moment?​

Life for us, too, will so often be what we make of it.

We, as Christians, are called to be difference makers.  We’re called to model our life after Christ’s (1 Cor. 11:1), and He made the ultimate difference for us; He died on the Christ so that we might have eternal life (Jn. 3:16).

• Go make disciples of all nations (Matt. 28:19).

• Turn from our selfishness, pick up our cross, and follow the King of Kings (Luke 9:23).

• Love one another, even to the point of laying our lives down for our friends (Jn. 15:12-13).

We are called to be difference makers.
Why then do we so often not make a difference?


We often don’t step out and make a difference because we are holding on to something: discouragement. 

Holding on to this prohibits us from grabbing on to God’s hand as we step out in His plan for us to make a difference.

We need to hold on to hope that we can make a difference, for we can do all things through Christ (Phil. 4:13).

If God is calling us to act, do we not trust that He will provide all we need to do these actions?  Can we not simply be faithful to the call of difference making and trust the results  (whether we deem them “big” or “small”) to Him?

We must boldly hold on to His promises of comfort, strength, and provision as we are faithful to obey the call to be Kingdom difference makers.

3. You're part of a big family.

Maybe this is actually a good thing.

Yes, we’re small, but our God is big; He’s put us in a global family of brothers and sisters in Christ.

Together, our small existence adds up to a bigger whole.  Our “small” actions of difference making add up to a world that is collectively being impacted.

Don't give up.

You can make a difference, and the thing is: you’re actually called to do so.

You’ve been put in this place and time on purpose (Acts 17:26).  Hold onto the hope in Christ and lose yourself in faithful obedience to His call.  Together, as family, we are impacting the world.

I just pulled Instagram up on my phone and was going to start scrolling.

afraid [adj] 1. feeling fear; filled with apprehension  2. feeling regret, unhappiness, or the like  3. feeling reluctance, unwillingness distaste, or the like

Fear.

It's a dynamic word; it's a word that practically all of us have experience with.

We're afraid of public speaking.
We're afraid of spiders and heights and drowning and car accidents and terrorist attacks.
We're afraid of loss. of shame. of defeat. of rejection.

We're all afraid of something.

What if fear isn't all bad, though?

Life will give us things without our asking.  What it gives to us is not always in our control, but how we respond is.  What we do with the emotions we have and what we aim them at we can make an effort to control and direct.

We fear (and maybe, we just need to learn to fear the right things).

There are five things that you really should fear:

1.  Blindness

You don't need to necessarily fear physical blindness but fear the blindness that reaches beyond that.  Fear the blindness that prohibits you from seeing what is in front of you clearly, from seeing others for what they are, for seeing yourself for who you are.

The true frightening reality is when we live in a reality of poverty, oppression, and injustice and we no longer see it.
It's scary when you only see others from the lens of what your projected judgement is putting on them.
Life is drenched in fear when you no longer can see and refuse to admit when you've done something that has hurt others and cannot see that you may need to make a change.

2.  Safety

Safety isn't always something that is bad; it has its place.  We often need to be safe from the elements, from gunfire, from hunger.

But clinging to safety like it is oxygen you cannot function without is not healthy, either.

"A ship is safe in harbor, but that's not what ships are for" (William G.T. Shedd).

If you ever want to make a change in your life, to feel like you are doing something of meaning and purpose try danger.  Don't try careless recklessness, but try small acts of dangerous living.

Do something outside of your comfort zone.
Talk to someone who you've been meaning to but are too intimated to try.
Reach for that goal you've been too afraid to try because it could go not as planned. 

Keep the fear of ebbing out a "safe" existence ever in front of you and have the courage to live life on purpose.

"What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything? (Vincent van Gogh).

3.  Inaction

"The more often he feels without acting, the less he will ever be able to act, and, in the long run, the less he will be able to feel" (C.S. Lewis).

The world is brimming with hurt and pain.
We notice these things in others; we've felt them ourselves.

The frightening reality comes when we stop acting when we are moved to act and when we become so cocooned in our self-centerdness that we no longer even feel these things.

It's only when we act that we gain momentum and that we can (as strange as it sounds) ensure a higher chance of acting in the future.

It is action that changes the future.

We must go.  We must do.  We must fear a permanent stopping.

4.  Laziness

If we are fearing blindness, safety, and inaction, we still can undo the good that these three fears produce with one simple habit: laziness.

"Laziness is exactly as the number eight.  If if lays down, it becomes infinite" (Anonymous).

We must fear this laziness because it causes our lives to be full of the other three.

As we sit and neglect productive work, we can become blind to the potential that we have to do more with our lives and lose sight of the impetus to actually do it.
As we drown in our indifference, we live lives that are too safe because we never go out and find what we are capable of.
As we procrastinate without fail, we are inactive in many areas in which we need to be taking action and making a difference.

Fear laziness because of the havoc it can unleash into your life.


Fear has power; it has the power to immobilize you or to send you soaring.  It has the potential for both.  You choose which potential becomes a reality.

We long to be a part.  to say something worth the saying.  to go beyond that and do something worth the doing.  to live a life that's worth the living.

Maybe, people are really sick of the fluff, the sugar, the entertaining laziness. Maybe, they are dying inside to just wake up. To be hit with the heavy. To have to respond. To grow up. To do something. To be pushed to do more and to be told that they are more.

I'm sick and tired of not doing.
I'm sick and tired of focusing on how "sick and tired" I am of not doing that I don't actually ever do.

I'm starting.  I'm starting now.  I'm starting here.  I'm starting with what I can, and all I can do is go from there.

Here's to the start of a new journey, then.  I journey that I will be recording here on this blog through posts of personal-ways of difference making and a new series on what we can actually do in events that get so much talk but not enough engaged action.

I challenge you, too, to look and see what you can do and to engage with the world.  I'd love to hear ways that you are stepping beyond yourself, throwing off the suffocating self-centered, entertained laziness and doing.

Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it's the only thing that ever has (Margaret Mead).

Again, dear readers, I am not able to talk with each of you face-to-face.  This makes me more sad than you know!  In hopes to give you some more perspective of the life of this blogger behind the screen, here are seven things you might notice if we met.


1.  I have an obsession with Spanish.
It's been an obsession seriously ever since I was a four-year-old girl having a dream about witnessing in a Spanish speaking country.  Maybe it's the fact that my dad is a pastor who used to frequently go on missions trips, or maybe it's because my mom is so big on international Christianity.  Either way, Spanish-ness and the wonderful language itself have a part in my past and have a place to stay.

So, if we ever meet, prepare yourself for movie watching.. in Spanish. Brace yourself for random song outbursts.. in Spanish.  And I apologize in advance when I start speaking to you, occasionally, in Spanish.  If you come in my car, too, well the tunes might sound a little foreign to your ears cause I got my Spanish Hillsong jam.  I'm nowhere near fluent, though, but I seem to love it more each time I speak/hear/listen/write it.


2.  I can be absolutely terrible at texting or messaging back.
Call it short-term memory loss or blame it on the fact that my phone could basically be anywhere at any given time (and I probably couldn't tell you where), but it's just the unintentional reality.

{Really, I'm trying to improve, though..}


3.  I'll always choose left.
When faced with the choice: right or left? my theory is: always take the road left traveled...


4.  I (potentially) have problems navigating... through my home-town.
Starbucks drinker {leaning over to my table}: Hey, do you know you way around this city really well?
Me: oh! I'm so sorry, but I don't... (to myself: uhm, why don't I know this?  Wait.  You've been living here for ten years, Deborah, and don't know your way around {the struggle is real}.  Well, this is awkward..)


5. I just really love shoes (like, a lot).
When I was five years old, my dad lost me.  We were in Target, and I disappeared.  He ended up finding me... in the shoe section.  Ever since then, I like to say, my love of those wonderful things we put on our feet have only grown.

I may potentially dig pretty strange ones, too, and match them with outfits that are.. unconventional.  (Hey, somebody's gotta do it, right?)  My Dominican Republic canvas shoes may have seen the sunlight (or lack-of) more than a few times in the middle of winter even, and -let me tell you- they have negative two traction. 
  

6.  I'm a men's small.
Being a tall-ish and broad-shouldered girl has it's downsides (though I think it's like amazing, in general). Truth be told, a men's small in clothes can fit me pretty well, and my man clothes are some of my favorites (this zip-up I have, though..).

It only gets a little weird when you're at a youth retreat and you see a guy wearing a shirt that you happen to also have brought with.  {It just keeps life fun, right?}


7. One word: croutons.  
I'm not big on comfort food, but I do have a go-to snack: croutons (Olive Garden ones, in particular).  I may have been recently found sitting on the floor with a mega-sized bag of these crunching and typing away.  (Really, there's just a seasoning that can't be beat..)

 
Now it's your turn!  I would love to hear something(s) that I would notice about you on the other side of this screen if we met.  Feel free to comment below!

My feet were going over both the slushy puddles and the ice.

When I opened the mailbox, I saw the letter.  It read "Honors Program" above the college's name in the top left corner.

My feet skipped over both the puddles and ice as I literally ran inside.  My heart was pounding, but my stomach was filled with an ocean of dread and apprehension.  My mind was coated in doubt, but my heart wouldn't stop beating hope.

It didn't take long.  "We're sorry, but we are unable to accept everyone who applies."  My mind's doubt was icing into cold, numbing fact while my heart moved from beating hope to bleeding disappointment.

I knew it was doubtful.  Only fifteen people out of the entire incoming class are selected, and my APA stylistic mishap had been haunting me during the final days of waiting.  I had not been able to rid myself of the hope, though.  A different school, nicknamed "the Harvard of the Evangelicals," had already accepted me and even given me their highest academic scholarship.  My ACT score allowed me to apply for this elitist program.  I was co-presidnet of the National Honors Society, for Pete's sake.

Yet, I was facing "you're a good candidate for our 'second-chance' opportunity."

I dropped the letter and turned away.

I dropped the letter and felt my hope drop to the floor.  I turned away and felt like my dreams had totally turned away from me and left me in a place unable to engage in the shattered reality I now faced.

Very few times have I literally not been able to speak because my emotions are like a torrent washing me so completely that words are buried and my tongue is too coated in their waves to move.  This was one of those times, and I...

lost it.

I would like to say otherwise, but it's just the truth: this rejection letter felt like it broke a dam inside of me that allowed a flood of held-back doubts and too-long held fears to pour out.

This was supposed to be the final confirmation that I should go to this school.
I prayed.  I prayed, yet this is the result that I get.  again.  
My family literally can't afford the practically $18,000 that this is going to cost us; doesn't God understand that?
Why, why is the effort (forget about my own effort) of my parents yet again seemingly unrewarded?
Why do I have to deal with all the doubt and baggage that this is going to cause me from this day forward?  I. do. not. have. the. strength.
Why do I have to carry and work through what this is bringing up in my life?  When can it just be what I wanted?

Tears are an interesting reality.  Although it may feel like they are drowning you, they're often just washing you clean: washing you clean of gunk that has been building up inside.  Sometimes, something as strong as a torrent of tears is the only thing that can wash that buildup out.

When the buildup was coming down, I see this: we're not built to stand alone.

When the hope was dropping to the floor, I see this: maybe our hope should start at the floor.  It should start beneath us and be grounding us.  It should be an anchor for our soul, and this is not an anchor that 'ties us down' but one that enables us to stand up (Hebrews 6:19).

When my whole reality seemed to darken, I see this: God is light, and in Him, there is just no darkness (1 John 1:15).  Isn't that enough?

When my life seems shaken, I see this: though the hills be shaken and the very mountains move, His steadfast love just isn't going to change (Isaiah 54:10).  Doesn't that steadfast love still have you covered even when, hey, it seems like it's forgotten about you?

When my heart is bleeding and I don't think I even have the strength to cover the wound, I see this: when I am weak, oh man, then is when I am actually strong (2 Corinthians 12:10).

When life brings you through solid ice of doubts, fears, and crumpled dreams, I see this: life has both the pain and cold and danger of ice, but there is always the melting of this ice where the pain will fade, and you will find that you are stronger for enduring the ice.  Really, though, both ice and melting puddles are made of water, but they just come in different forms.  And both are good.

Now, that letter is now sitting not even eight feet away from me.  I wanted to burn it not even a week ago.  Today, I want to frame it.  Call that strange desire swap what you will - character defect, bizarre tendency - but I've seen that in the dark tears of weakness are the brightest cleansings of His strength.  

And I don't want to forget that.


Update:  The day after receiving the honors program rejection letter, I got a phone call.  The leadership development program that I'd applied to at the same school had accepted me.  Frankly, this program is the better fit for me at this point in my life, and it is highly doubtful that I would have been able to be in both programs.  Yet, I had to live through an emotional hell before finding out this news.  But, my God is the God of heaven, and I want to encourage you: hang on.  He's just not finished yet.