return and learn

A few weeks ago I was going through old posts and I came across this one, my 2014 survey, and I wept. I was astounded by the goodness of God, overcome by His lavish love and grace for me that He has shown in the SEVEN (what the heck you guys its JULY!) months since I wrote that post. Even now I can recall the sharp ache that I felt deep within me, this sense that things were getting better, but I had a long ways to go. The past seven months have been brief and fleeting, I feel like I fell asleep in January and woke up in July, but in the same breath, I feel like I've felt every single painstaking minute that took place. Growth does that to you, it's burden is hefty, it's longevity one I can only describe as hypersonic molasses and it's only when you take a step back that you see its incredible work. 

If I could describe 2015 up to this point the words I would choose for myself would be: Happy, healthy and whole. And difficult. Extremely difficult as I've come to terms with who I am, who God says I am, being satisfied in that, moving forward and throwing my fears, insecurities, hurts and worries at the feet of Jesus and saying: "It's Yours."

I have truly tasted and understood the concept of freedom in Christ and friends, let me tell you, it is indescribable and leaves me refreshed and, well; happy, healthy and whole.

So that's where I found myself a week or two ago when I re-read that 2014 survey because God had met EVERY. SINGLE. NEED. Not only did He meet them, He exceeded them, pushing every mediocre definition and idea of what I longed for and was working towards. At times it was as simple as giving up and giving it to God and at other times it was as painful as giving it to God. But it was so incredibly worth it because I got to understand and glimpse the character of the God I so desperately was seeking and pursuing and trusting.

For the most part, these months have been ones of relishing in the aforementioned glimpses and understandings, finally feeling like I was trusting God and getting to know Him on this visceral level. No longer did I feel shame or lose hope that I would never be that type of person who would experience God so candidly because I WAS FINALLY DOING IT DANG IT and I was so, so happy.

Last week was a little bit tougher. I began to doubt and worry that soon, my closeness with God would dissipate. I feared that I would, once again, become lackadaisical, lukewarm and drift away from my faith. That I would begin putting my identity and seeking my satisfaction elsewhere only to become disappointed in God, feeling forgotten or that my time had come and gone and that He had moved on and was fixing the next person. 

The little voice in the back of my head was back and it was bitter: "This won't last for long. This sweet place of retreat. This wholeness, happiness and healthiness your feeling will soon be gone, you always chase it away..."

I was so consumed and worried that I would screw this all up again that I forgot the God I was serving. 

"And I'll give them a heart to know me, God. They'll be My people and I'll be their God, for they'll have returned to me with all their heart." [Jeremiah 24:7]

As I was reading this verse two things stood out to me; one, that I was serving a God who was capable and willing to give me a heart to know Him. He desires me to know Him, He wants to be my God and I need only ask. Two, the word returned struck a chord. It further cemented the goodness and unchanging nature of the one I was RETURNING to. I was coming back to Him with all my heart because He never left.

He never left. He never left. HE NEVER LEFT.

Suddenly this verse wasn't one that summarized the past seven months, but it convicted me of the anxiety I was feeling for the coming ones. I was so wrapped up in MY fear of ME turning away and ME muddying it all up that I forgot the simple fact that it isn't about ME.

It's about God. He would give me all I needed, He was there, constant, unchanging, permanent. Just like He had been for the entire journey.

I was reminded of the word theodidaktoi which means to be taught by God. That word resonated with me to my core because it meant this: I needed to shift not only my focus (from me, to God), not only my heart (asking God to give me a heart to know Him), but I would only shift my heart and my focus if I was being taught by Him and listening to what He said in those moments. Not what my fear said, not what my worries said, not what my theology said, what HE was teaching me.

The past seven months had been ones of constant teaching, sometimes whispers and sometimes shouts, but teaching nonetheless and that was something I could rest in. He was teaching and while doing so, He was letting me be lavished by His love and grace and teaching, and I was resting my weary, anxious soul in His arms, surrendering my fears, inadequacies and hurts at His feet, putting my identity and all in all in Him alone.

I need not fear what's around the bend, whether I'm worried I'll fail and retreat from my faith or nervous that once again I'll get hit with the crippling tsunami like wave of anxiety I once drowned in, for my God is one who I can return to, He is one who will give me a heart to know Him in those moments, to experience Him and cling to Him. He is a God who teaches and I am the one who learns.

So scratch that, yes I am happy and healthy and whole and that's great, but I am those things because I am theodidaktoi, taught by God. 

along the way

Somewhere along the way I talked myself into the idea I would never have close friends who I would laugh hysterically at, someone to drive around with while having long life talks (and maybe chat about Kylie Jenner's lips somewhere in there too, HATE ME) and someone to watch bad reality TV alongside of. 

I'm not quite sure how I talked myself into this idea, whether it was because I told myself that people were bad and not worth the time and energy or simply that I told myself I wasn't good enough or worthy of such friendships, regardless, I put this distinct line where I cut people off. You could be my friend up until this point, a point of safety and distance that allowed us to be friendly, but not close. I had told myself that this was rational and fair; a caution that needed to be taken, but in all honesty it was hellish. At this place I felt not only isolated but broken. I couldn't trust others, I couldn't even trust myself to make a good choice in friends, I let bitterness and unforgiveness take root and suddenly it consumed me to the point where this "place" wasn't just a place, it became my home.

It wasn't like distrust, bitterness and unforgiveness showed up at my hearts doorstep and I was all: "OH YES I AM SO GLAD YOU ARE HERE! SLEEP ON THE COUCH! DOORS ALWAYS OPEN! RUIN MY LIFE! DISTANCE ME FROM GOD! CAN'T WAIT!" The enemy is tricky like this. His lies and the baggage they drag along behind them don't present themselves as their true forms because they're lies, instead he wraps them up as nice little packages, he convinces you that this is for your benefit while also taunting and tormenting you, he comforts you with the idea that being alone is better then having friends at all. Then he laughs. Because he's also a bully.

And this was where I found myself. 

Somewhere along the way I had built up these walls of protection, strong and steadfast, high above me and all around. They kept people away, danger was at bay and I could sleep soundly knowing I was safe. Except I wasn't safe and I didn't sleep soundly. In fact, I was sad and alone and angry. I was angry at God for not making me "likable" or "trusting" or capable of making and keeping friends, angry at myself for being too much of a freak to keep friends and angry at people for not being there for me. Couldn't they see I was alone? Couldn't God? Suddenly my fortress was a prison, one that I had created subtly over time, gradually chipping away who I was to create the walls that kept me contained.

Isolation is a pretty miserable place to be, but its right where the enemy wants us. Alone and in the quiet corners of heart I was curling up and telling myself that I was a failure. I wasn't good, I would make a horrible friend, I was a freak, a loser, a messy, awful, annoying person who had all these issues. I had anxiety that crippled me and added to this. Good Christian girls didn't have anxiety, they weren't depressed or emotional or feeling the things I was, they fiercely loved Jesus and were buzzing with constant joy and satisfaction in Christ, they were surrounded by friends and probably also didn't get pimples. Somewhere along the way I convinced myself that I was never going to be that and by then I had distanced myself so far away from friends and God and even myself that I was unrecognizable. 

Back in February I found myself at a crossroad. I was faced with a choice: I could continue to quietly whisper these things to myself, not daring to open up and tell a soul and befriend them and share my brokenness with them. I could continue to avoid community and relationship in the realest, most honest, most raw form of itself. I could continue to imprison myself in my own loneliness and isolation and continue listening to my own lies and those of the enemy. 

Or I could face it all head on, stand up and deal. So I did.

And it wasn't easy. It wasn't easy to force myself to be honest and open up to the Holy Spirit and the bits of me that needed healing. It wasn't easy to invite God in and give Him control and ultimate authority in my life. It wasn't easy to repent of my sin and even to forgive and accept an apology I never got years ago. It wasn't easy to trust that God would meet my need in His timing and in His perfect way and that it would all work out. It wasn't easy to go out and make friends and open up and be real. It was excruciating for me to say: "This is me, I'm Kelly, this is what I am."

But you know what? God is good and He met me where I was and He redeemed and He restored and He healed. At this crossroad that I was at, somewhere along the way God stepped in and took control and I let Him, and it was good. So, so good.

When God reached out and extended His hand of grace and forgiveness to me and I reached out and clutched it, I held on tight. I'm still clutching right now because I'm acutely aware of how desperately in need of Him I am and how His hand has quickly restored me. In turn, I was able to offer the same hand of grace and forgiveness to others and most importantly to myself. Where there once was isolation and lies and loneliness, there is now freedom. 

God's mere presence in our lives brings unequivocal freedom and simply inviting Him in allows that freedom to interrupt my daily life. To meet me somewhere along the way and rescue me. That same freedom extended into my friendships and allowed that excruciating: "This is me, I'm Kelly, this is what I am." to turn into a freeing moment. 

Somewhere along the way I convinced myself that isolation and loneliness was going to be something I was "stuck" with for the reset of my life. There wasn't one person, one defining moment or one incident that allowed me to believe that lie, it was one the enemy carefully wove for me over time and that I fell for and entrapped myself in.

Somewhere along the way I believed the lie that God didn't love me enough to bring me friends. The kind that were going to pray for me, encourage me, walk beside me and love me for who I was in my messy imperfection. The kind that would stay up late eating pizza with me and watching E! News and chatting about the benefits of using expensive shampoo. The kind that would point me to the cross when I was hurting and knock me upside the head with truth when I was out of line. The kind that were happy when I was happy and would throat punch anyone who looked cross eyed at me. Along the way I've come to realize that those are the types of friendships God always wanted for me. The kind He blesses me with and the community His presence creates. 

And when those friends fail not because they're jerks but because they're human, He reminded me that He is always able and constant. He doesn't promise me a perfect, carefree, easy life, but He does promise me His son, to walk beside me and guide me, to comfort and satisfy me when even I'm incapable of comforting and satisfying myself.

Somewhere along the way I got it ALL wrong and a little off track. And I'm okay with that because somewhere along the way, I finally got it right.

approved.

I don't think it's a big secret that my biggest struggle has been to love myself completely. And not just the person I see in the mirror, but who that person is on the inside. I can vividly remember instances at even a young age feeling this huge weight upon me, at times it was unbearable and simply just THERE. Of course when you're 6 or 7 you don't know why you feel this, you don't know how to pinpoint this boiling emotion inside you, but it churns in your belly and courses through your brain and it's confusing and uncomfortable. As I grew I remember being able to identify what I was feeling like and giving them a name: Kelly was a disappointment, a failure, Kelly was someone who lacked stand up character and what not. I'll preface this by saying as far as kids went, I was pretty lovely. I did well in school, was kind to people, loving and spunky, so I'm not sure where I got the idea I was this awful person (for goodness sakes, my days were filled with piano lessons, basketball practices, books on books on books and homework!) but I constantly felt like I was never enough and I began hating myself. Not just the "hate" that we throw out there flippantly, but I truly hated myself and vehemently tried to change who I was, to no avail.

In retrospect, I think, from the beginning of time, I thrived on making others happy. As a preschool teacher I know that kids will do nice things just to hear you say the token words: "Wow! Thank you! You're great!" (and they will let you know how great they are if you don't catch them in the act, mind you.) I've also learned that we are all a bunch of adult sized 4 year olds in that regard, subconsciously floating around seeking the approval of those around us just to feel good about ourselves, our work and our general personhood. It's human nature to want the approval of those around us, especially those we love or work under; our parents, bosses, friends, boyfriends, teachers, husbands, children, etc. suddenly become those we desire to impress and receive approval from. I took it to a whole new level, I craved that approval constantly from everyone. It didn't extend to my small realm of people who were "important" to me, I wanted to please EVERYONE.

It was a perfect storm: my love language is words of affirmation (go figure!), I'm EXTREMELY empathetic, I can walk into a room, feel the vibe or the emotions and will in turn take those emotions on and try to process them as my own, I don't want to hurt or disappoint others and I'm human. Suddenly all these things were buzzing and fizzing inside me, colliding into one another and clomping around, this constant static of panicky urge to PLEASE ALL THE PEOPLE.

I was exhausted. I was angry. I was anxious. I was depressed. I began to withdraw. I journaled angst-y, angry, amplified teenage woes of how awful I was and how I could never make anyone like me. I would monitor EVERYONE and if I saw the slightest flicker of what I perceived or felt as disappointment or failure I collapsed into a puddle of tears and self hatred. Eventually I learned to reign it in, no one likes a weepy 16 year old (p.s. they called it "sensitive"), but I still hurt. I was heavy, lugging my weight of disapproval and lack of confidence everywhere I went. I put on the smiles and pulled out my jokes, but inside I was desperately pleading: "Please like me so that I can like myself."

At times, it was a dull roar. I would ignore it, paint over it, pretend it was "normal" or that it didn't exist altogether. At other times it would rear it's ugly head in a sudden obsession and desire to be wanted by all the wrong people. It was a toxic place and incredibly disheartening. I would think: "If only I could be a little bit better, this would all go away. If only this person would be happy with me, I'll be alright."

If you're reading this you're probably screaming: "GET IT TOGETHER!" But let me tell you, in the midst of a storm you can convince yourself that even the most blatantly unhealthy situations are "normal" or a "phase" or host of any other excuses to get you out of facing your fear head on. For me, that fear was that I would be unlikable.

A few months ago I was making my 35 minute commute to work, one in which I've devoted to time with God, I'll worship, pray, or wait quietly to hear from Him. This instance I was praying and asking (once again) for God to please allow me to accept myself and move past what others thought of me or were saying. I felt this gentle voice say: "What gives those words the power to define you?"

It was so soft. This gentle, loving nudge, yet it rocked my world. It was like every time my friends reminded me that my approval and identity was in Christ, that the gospel had changed me and that I was accepted as a daughter of Christ finally clicked.

A moment with God changed everything.

I remember audibly fumbling with my words, not because it was an "Ah ha!" moment but more of a: "Duh you idiot!" moment. At this point I was aware that the answer was simple: "Those words don't have power over me." But before I could defend myself, once again, God continued: "Your identity is in me. That messiness you feel, that you're not good enough, it's gone. It died on the cross. When I said: "It is finished!" I meant that you were finished with having to feel like you would never be approved. Your identity isn't in what they say about you, it's about what I say about you. I say that you're good enough. I say that you're forgiven. I say that I love you and I want you." At this point I was crying, not of shame (3 minutes prior that's why I would've cried), but because I felt this weight suddenly lifted, this freedom I had never felt before. As I was crying that gentle voice once again said, "So who's words do you want to give power to?"

That's the power of the gospel. That Jesus would carry my shame, my guilt, my sin, my desire to seek approval and in turn my feelings of failure, that He would feel that, embody it, take the punishment for it, carry the weight of it, die with it and take it to His grave. The same grave He was triumphant over. The same failure I feel, He was triumphant over.

That is what has power in my life.

Why would I give power to the words of those who are just as messy and hurting as me? Why would I give power to those who haven't triumphed death and sin? Why would I give power to the words of those who haven't accepted me, good, bad and ugly, with a perfect love?

I throw myself at the foot of the cross everyday, accepting the grace that says: "You are by nature messy and kind of awful, but I loved you enough to take that, bear it and crush it. You are free, you are a friend of mine, you are a child... You are accepted."

Those are the words I'll give power to. For they are the truest and purest words ever said.

faithful satisfaction

Hi, so let's not even acknowledge that I haven't written a blog post since the beginning of the year (unless you count the one time I copy and pasted an old post, which doesn't count by the way.)

I feel like the past few months have flown by, I have had every intention of sitting down and pounding out what is going on and what God is doing and sharing, but every time I do, I walk away feeling like I don't have the adequate words. 

In October I shared this post where I opened up about my battle with anxiety and depression and the medical war (and dear God did it feel like an all out war) I had been waging over the summer. It was a tough post to write, opening up about my biggest demons was scary and daunting but it was cathartic and healing in the process. I was able to reach out and say: "I love Jesus, but I was hurting and I needed to get help and I want to say that it's okay to ask for help. You aren't broken beyond repair or less of a Christian because of it." 

That being said, since that time, mostly this new year, my life and my faith have been radically changed. (HAHAHAHAHA EVERY BLOG POST I HAVE EVER WRITTEN.) Sometimes in life we are faced with tough challenges and big decisions and they bring you to your knees. 

I've always struggled with my identity and being confident with who I was. I was convinced that this was always going to be a part of me and and a part of my life. I was constantly aware of everyone's disapproval of who I was, I tried so hard to please this person or that person, I was so wrapped up in making myself or others happy that I was miserable. I began believing the lies of isolation that we can so quickly become entrapped in.

"You'll never make friends."

"You'll never be good enough."

"You'll never be happy all the time."

"You'll always be anxious." 

"You'll never be able to go to college."

"You'll never....."

The never's became my best friends. They woke me up in the morning and sang me to sleep every night, they were my constant companion, everything became an insurmountable obstacle that the never's reminded me I couldn't do. I removed myself from friendships, believing they were never going be successful, healthy, thriving places of rest and refreshment. I removed myself from church and community because they would never understand me and they would ultimately hurt me. I removed myself from Jesus because He would never get me or my pain, He would never fully heal me, He would never quench my desires and restore me. The never's backed me into a corner until I was all alone and then they told me that I would never be enough either. 

The world suddenly was this awful, horrible place and I was just another pawn in the game. 

But the funny thing is, is that I had convinced myself that the never's was normal and in fact extremely logical. I was "cautious" when it came to friends, "smart", "careful", "sensitive", whatever adjective that seemed to explain away what was in reality hurt and bitterness. 

In all honesty the root of the problem was a weak faith in God. Sure, I believed that He had died for me, I talked about my faith in Him and I whole heartily believed the stories that I was told, but I didn't have faith that God could completely and fully satisfy me like He could do for others. I would always have a small part of me that would never be enough, never make friends, never not be anxious, never be happy, never be satisfied...

I had spent so long telling myself that Jesus couldn't and that I couldn't and that everyone else couldn't that I had no faith in anyone or anything. That's a horribly lonely, dark place to be. Everything seems so big and scary and impossible and that's because there is no hope therefore it IS big and scary and impossible, but that isn't reality. 

This is the reality of Jesus: He is able. He is big and mighty and the never's are nothing to Him. I was so terrified to give up control and have faith wholly and completely in God that I ultimately was alone and defeated. I think I was scared that I would be trapped. I thought that I was free when I was faithless, but freedom came with faith.

I made conscious efforts to pray and read and rely only on God and His word. Things shifted when I woke up in the morning and committed my day to Him, the moment I woke up, I prayed, invited God in, asked for wisdom and joy, peace and guidance and an awareness of Him. When I was overwhelmed or began doubting I would turn on worship or open my bible, flooding the darkness with light, the lies with truth. When I was nervous or anxious, I prayed. All this time I thought God wasn't meeting me when in reality I wasn't allowing my heart to open up and let Him in.

I gave up my false sense of "freedom" to throw myself at the foot of the cross, embrace grace and rest in Jesus and that is where I was truly free. I was free from the constant presence of the never, I was rid of my anxiety and feelings of inadequacy, I was satisfied and whole when I pursued Christ and only Him.

It had been so long since I had heard God's voice and felt His presence that I had to pull over the first time I felt Him so near to me again, like an old friend, He sidled right up to me and held me as if He had never left. I thought I had lost it. I thought that I was so broken beyond repair that I was never again going to experience being near to God. But, God is faithful to His Word and His promises, even when I am not faithful to Him. He was waiting for me to get my act together and with grace and love He welcomed me back and wiped every tear, healed my heart and refreshed me with a fullness only He can give. 

What I'm getting at is that faith brings freedom and freedom produces satisfaction. When you have faith in God, the good, the bad and the life that you live is suddenly okay again. Your world is complete and there is this supernatural feeling of joy and peace that surpasses anything this world can give you or explain. That is faith and that is Jesus.

My satisfaction is in Christ alone. It is in Him I look for my joy, peace, happiness and it is there that the never's are squelched, my craziness quieted, this anxious little heart of my put to rest and it is there that I am completely and unequivocally satisfied.  

the loudest quiet

I have a really tough time opening up to people, I've always journaled, written and expressed myself with pen and paper better then I ever could do in conversation. Sometimes the world sort of closes in on me and my mind is going a million miles an hour and I just grab a piece of paper, my computer, open up the notes on my phone and write. If you ask me to talk to you about an issue and I have to verbalize I tend to to freak, jumbling my words and straying from my original line of thinking. With writing I am clear and concise, I can walk away knowing that I have expressed myself down to the last line, everything inside of me neatly written, my soul empty, my thoughts arranged.

Which is sort of why I blog, because I feel like I have so much to say and share, not because I'm incredibly wise (I'm not), not because I feel like I even have anything worth sharing (I don't, I'm quite un-interesting as far as humans go), but because it's a safe place for me. If I wanted for someone to see the REAL me, I would point them to my writing. Internally I think, process and even relate to others in terms of sentence structures, letters and words. I am constantly searching for synonyms, metaphors or ways to express myself with comparisons while I'm doing busy work, creating stories while I drive. In my own little word I am a type writer constantly moving, going and reworking my thoughts as if I'm writing the next great American Novel. I don't know if that makes me a writer or a freak show, but words and sharing myself in that format, that will forever be my home. Sharing everything I have going on in my mind, to alleviate some of the noise of my own thoughts on the internet, baring my soul to a group of strangers, that's where I am truly comfortable. Gosh, I love the 21st century! 

That being said: The past little while has been hard (I know, you've heard it a million different times on KMW, but I'm, once again, alluding to that vague statement). I have really struggled with a multitude of emotions, fears, medical issues, personal issues and relationships in the past few months that have not only drained me, wiping me out, but also broken me and in all honesty made me hate facing the day. In all honesty: I thought I was going insane. I was controlled completely by my emotions and it made living life incredibly harrowing. I would wake up and know that the day wouldn't be my own, but my emotions. It's easy to tell someone to deal with it and learn to control themselves and their emotions, but when you're completely helpless, drowning in the deep and murky waters of anxiety and depression, you simply can't. I guess you don't know until you're there, tied up and screaming with one of your hands covering your cries for help, the other meddling with the knobs in your brain, cranking your emotions into overdrive while simultaneously paralyzing you. It's crippling and discouraging and exhausting and frustrating and infuriating, and gosh dang, it is hard.

I wish I could tell you some beautiful tale of how I overcame, prayed everyday and relied completely on God and was brave, because I wasn't. I was broken, totally and completely. I was scared and angry, at God for not intervening, at myself for knowing I needed to stop and failing daily, at everyone else for not understanding and at circumstances for remaining stubbornly bleak and painful. It was like standing in quicksand, slowly sinking deeper and deeper, struggling to save myself but entrapping myself more with any sort of effort. Eventually I just stopped and let myself slowly and painstakingly slip further and further under.

Finally I knew that there had to be SOMETHING wrong and I got help. It was probably the hardest thing I did because I am an incredibly independent person and I thought that by asking for help I was admitting a crippling weakness. Fast forward from August to now and I am sick, but not with depression or anxiety but a genetic disorder and mutation that was causing increased responses that presented themselves as anxiety and depression, left untreated I would've eventually presented signs of schizophrenia and begin to hear and see things. So basically, my body was sabotaging itself despite my best efforts to fix myself.

The night I found out I sat in my bed and bawled. I let the waves of relief roll over me, a tsunami that I willingly tossed and turned in, reveling in the peace that became immediate and the hope that was shining brightly. The sudden acknowledgement that I WASN'T broken, that I WAS hurting, that all this time my body was violently rebelling against me and that the real Kelly had retreated and been obliterated by this terrible reaction to medications was so sweet. I was once again weeping but this time it was in relief.

+ + +

That being said, I learned a lot on this journey. I think the biggest takeaway was that God was Lord over it all. I feel like as Christians we assume that this journey will be easy, so when life slaps us in the face and knocks us down we look at God and are ticked. I also think that we are afraid to admit that we are struggling and ask for help when life happens  and we get overwhelmed because we are supposed to have it all together. I think we forget that God is good always, even when life isn't as good and that we are just as susceptible to the side affects of living life as the next person. We will experience joy and pain in extreme amounts and some seasons are full of joy and others swing the opposite direction. Some seasons are short and others seem to drag on and I think we fail to remember that that is OKAY. It is okay to be sad and happy and to deny those harder emotions is incredibly dangerous. 

I have learned to lean on God and know that there is a purpose for pain and for joy and for struggle. That He sees me and knows I am hurting and that it will not be in vain for He is not a God of suffering or punishment, but of purpose and grace. Sometimes the answer to this problem is healing and sometimes it isn't, but just because it doesn't play out how I would like it to doesn't mean it was a complete failure or that we serve a God who is incapable. 

In those moments all I could do was wait quietly. For answers, for healing, for God, for test results and lab work, for answers and phone calls. There were quiet times of crying out to God and not-so-quiet times of yelling, but through it all, every stage of life, I was serving a God who was able and who was faithful. Even when my worship was broken, what He did on that cross and what He is doing is finished. 

This was the loudest "quiet"-ness of my life. I was incessantly bombarded with crippling feelings of despair and hopelessness and restlessness and my brain was a constant cacophony of emotions and noises. But in those moments of silence and in the moments of shouting there was a quiet cry to God to please see me and hear me and change me. I was reminded that sometimes life is beautiful and broken and tough and that's okay. There are blessings and there are trails and that doesn't make God powerless and it doesn't make me a recipient of some kind of sick punishment but merely a liver of life. What this does mean is that I have hope in a greater story, hope that this isn't the end of the finish line, hope that there is a purpose and hope that there are better things coming (hint: it's Heaven.) 

It means that I can do hard things, even if all I can do is wait quietly.

remind me

photo via my instagram {link on left!}

Every once in awhile, for five seconds, I feel like I have everything figured out. My life is neat and tidy, I feel confident, at ease and like I have control over things. Then along comes reality and the rug is pulled out from under me and there I am, a hot mess express headed not for Hogwarts (I'm still waiting, do you hear me J.K. Rowling?!) but for Patheticville, population: me.

This month has been nothing short of hard. There was lots of tears and moments of complete frustration and if I'm being honest, hopelessness. Not in a depressed, moody, emo sort of way but kind of like: Is this ever going to end? Is there ever light at the end of this tunnel? You know what I mean? When you can't catch a break and you constantly are on the verge of a nervous breakdown because you're an ultra sensitive weirdo named Kelly?

Most days it takes all that is in me not lay in bed and cry. And I would do just that, whine and mope and wallow in the sadness that was my life. Then I was convicted, so, instead, I set my alarm 10 minutes before I would get up just to have this conversation with God: "Hi, it's me again. I'm not looking forward to today but I know that You have a plan and a purpose, so use me, fill me with peace and rid me of anxiety. Help me be Your light as I love you better and love others like You call me to. Remind me that I'm drowning in Your grace, free from bondage to my sins and shortcomings, covered by Your blood. Within that freedom let me be refined and shaped more and more into Your image." Then we chat some more and I get up, only to have this same conversation 100 more times throughout the day.

Why? Because God is faithful. Always. He meets me wherever I am, knowing full well that I have nothing to offer. Even when at the end of the day I can say: "God, I have led 5 people to Christ, prayed all day, read my Bible, saved a cat from a tree and booked a missions trip to Haiti..." He loves me just as if I came to Him with nothing but my sin and dirtiness. My works mean nothing to Him in terms of His love for me and the amount of grace He shows. Sure, He is most glorified when I live a life that honors Him and worships Him, but that doesn't mean when I'm a complete failure that it's all lost. Good, bad or indifferent, His love, grace, goodness, is constant and faithful. Nothing I can do can change that.

I've been challenged lately to really tune into God, particularly, His faithfulness to me and His word. I intentionally look for His hand in my day to day activities and how His faithfulness is there, whether it be a whisper or a shout. Some days I see it in the the smiles on my students faces, it's the random message I find on Facebook in a comment or message, maybe it's the daily verse on my Bible app. Other days it's the in-your-face, blatant, flashing neon sign in the guise of a devotion, quiet time or lesson from school. But everyday, there are reminders littered throughout the day that God is constant, His goodness is sure and I can rest assured that He chose me before the foundation of the world. 

That's when something started to change. When I turned my focus from my anxiety, my fear, the pressure to please others (HELLO: when I stopped focusing on me!) and began looking to Christ, it all shifted and my heart changed. My days weren't full of anxiety but instead full of peace that God was in control and that He would be there. I became filled with faith, my prayers were dripping with confidence knowing that they would be answered, I knew that when I asked, God would move! It wasn't because He had to, I wasn't testing God, but His faithfulness was teaching me to be faithful to Him, trusting that He would provide. I nipped my negative thoughts in the bud and instead replaced them with hurried whispers of: "Jesus, remind me..."

Remind me that I am Yours. Remind me that I am approved. Remind me that I am covered. Remind me that it was finished on the cross. Remind me that I am forgiven. Remind me that You are moving. Remind me that You do not forget. Remind me of Your love. Remind me of Your grace. Remind me of the cross. Remind me that You are peace. Remind me that You are Lord. Remind me!

Remind me that You are faithful to Your Word and You are faithful to me.

christ is enough (& other things I learned this summer)

Real talk: The past few months have been hard.

I have been so heavy, broken and really searching and finding God in a new way. It amazes me that when I feel shattered and raw, when I'm worn down and weary, I can turn to Christ and weep, giving Him what little I have to offer, my broken pieces really, and He makes me new and heals me. He is my hope and stay.

I have felt heavy, yes, but more so I've felt almost like a failure, especially as of late.

For years there has been this buildup to the milestone that is "GRADUATION" and I am aware that it isn't the greatest accomplishment I will have, but it's my greatest feat yet. (12 years of school isn't a walk in the park, let me tell you.) A lot of weight is put in that day and rightly so! Your next big adventure awaits just on the horizon once you finish the last hill that is high school. Once you graduate though, a lot of expectations, hopes and dreams are invested into you. You are told to grow up, head to college and change the world. The response to your future are most often eager, full of pats on the back and declarations of: "You're doing the right thing! Your future is bright!"  

I sit back and watch my peers, friends and kids my ages be pat on the back and cheered on. They head off to become doctors and teachers and all around world changers and I can't help but feel a lack of enthusiasm for what I have on my horizon. 

To be honest, I know what I want to do, however I have no idea how to get there or what my immediate future holds. I am a terribly cautious person, indecisive as all get out and overall I'm terrified of letting other people down. (All the people pleasers murmur an enthusiastic: "Amen!") 

My friends, my parents, church people, teachers, customers, curious strangers and the like all have suddenly become people I can let down. They hear I've graduated and ask for my future plans and I reply: "I'm going to bible college." 

And I wait.

Because I know what comes next... "That's it?!" They ask, and I cringe. I can see disappointment flash in their eyes and my stomach tightens as I think: "They think I'm better than this." My heart is suddenly in my throat (and as of recently, tears sting my eyes) and I mentally add another check in the box next to People-Who-Are-Disappointed-In-My-Schooling-Of-Choice, an ever-growing list and the stuff my nightmares are presently made of. 

In those few words and the questions that soon follow, my passion, my desire, what I feel is God's calling on my life begins to be inundated with doubt. I begin to question my passion, is it uninspired? Lazy? Worth it? The hours of quiet time, the moments of sweet peace that have flooded this ever-so-anxious soul of mine, God's quiet reminders in my life, sweet confirmations that I was doing what He had always planned for me, are called into question.

The jury is 12 versions of myself, all a little bit more worried, panicky and full of doubt than the next. It's a losing battle for myself even before I give my opening argument.

So the past few months, especially the past few weeks, I've spent a lot of time crying, praying, wrestling with God and trying not to punch someone in the face. I want to scream, I want to curl up in a ball and cry, I want my heart to be ripped off my sleeve and hardened so that it isn't so darn sensitive. But remember what I said earlier? I have come to God and said: "Listen buddy, here is the situation and it doesn't look good for the people-pleasing Kelly you created."

Want to know the cool thing? He reminds me that I already have the only approval, validation and source of praise I need and that is His. It was given to me when He died on that cross and took away my sin, extended His hand of grace and I accepted, forever to dwell in the presence of God. It's a tricky thing my friends, to fully trust God, that He will provide, especially when we are surrounded by people who may not understand our chosen paths or callings or those who are genuinely speaking into our lives out of love. But it is here that I am resting, it is here that I am clinging and it is here you will find me (probably for the rest of my life), in the approval of Christ.

It is here that I can say with confidence: YES! I am going to bible college because I know this: I have no desire to do anything but dive head first and go all in to the works of the Kingdom. I am aware that this can be done in any sort of career path you choose and I give my kudos to those who choose to go that route. But my passion and calling lies in serving alongside churches, organizations and missions. What I may lack in yachts and mansions I will surely make up for in my faith that God will provide if I let Him do His work through me and follow His calling on my life, whatever that may look like. To you this may seem "reckless", but gosh, isn't that the gospel? One big story of people being reckless (in the best of ways) with their lives in their pursuit of God?

Very rarely do I ever have a song that I listen to that I feel resonates with me, but I heard this song the other day and it rings so clearly with me, I feel like God is reminding me every time that I listen that I am doing what's best for me:

Christ is my reward

And all of my devotion
Now there's nothing in this world
That could ever satisfy

Christ is enough for me
Christ is enough for me
Everything I need is in You
Everything I need

I have decided to follow Jesus
No turning back
No turning back

So I have a secret for you: I have never been so excited and so sure of my future. I don't know the gist of it (does anybody though?), but I have total and complete faith, I have purpose and I have peace and that's enough for me because Christ is enough for me.