Make Room for the King

          
          For the past few years, I have been on this self-sufficient, independent, skeptical version of autopilot. At first, it was about survival. Staying busy; never allowing myself to sit still and let my thoughts roam free (something I used to do habitually). When depression and anxiety overtake your mind, it plants this sense of fear - fear of your own thoughts. Being alone with your thoughts is where panic attacks are born when your mind is not healthy. But from a healthy place, that is also where dreams are birthed, self-awareness is gained, and learning takes place in beautiful ways. But with this fear of my own thoughts and my own emotions, unable to trust myself, I have avoided the uncomfortable opportunities of self-reflection and moments of intimacy with God. I have grown comfortable with my doubts and fears and filled my empty spaces with things of this world.

          I have felt too broken, too skeptical, too ashamed for Christ to love me and pursue me like the Bible says He does. I know the Bible to be true, so I have repeated His truths to myself, begging my heart to BELIEVE. Just believe. That’s what He asks of us. Everything He does is for His children to believe. He performed miracles, recorded in the Gospels, so that people might believe. He fulfilled prophecies so people might believe. He was crucified and rose from the dead so people might believe. He sent His disciples and apostles out so people might believe.

‘These are written so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in His name.’ - John 20:31

          I have spent many quiet mornings with a coffee in hand pleading with the Lord to help my unbelief. My skepticism seemed permanent. But I didn’t want it to be. I wanted to believe in the Lord. I wanted to believe that the beauty of the gospel was true for me too. I wanted my relationship with God back. I begged for belief but never provided room for Him to enter my life and mold my heart into the faith that He longs for. Belief comes when your heart is positioned in a way that optimizes your view of God’s true character and His glory. I may not know the exact position my heart should be placed in, but I don’t have to know because I can make room in my heart for the One who does. He is a mighty King that humbly enters our messy, brokenness and can miraculously mold our hearts to victoriously believe when we invite Him in.

          In Bethlehem, the innkeeper made room for Mary and Joseph, and ultimately Jesus. He didn’t offer his best suite for the expecting couple. Instead, our Savior was born into the filth of a stable for animals. Our King, our Redeemer, our Savior came into our mess. Jesus is not afraid of our mess. He is not afraid of our brokenness. He is not afraid of the extent of our shame. Instead, He modeled His fearless approach to messiness of this world by entering it in a dirty, rundown barn. He wants to heal you from the inside out. He knows firsthand how messed up the inside can be, but this is how He works. He wants to tenderly put your pieces back together. He wants to gloriously make you whole again, so that you may walk victoriously in belief.

2020. Perfect vision. This year, my focus is making room for the King; inviting Him in to my mess so that He might correct my vision and mold my heart. I'm making room in the mess, in the craziness, in the busyness of life. I know this means facing the uncomfortable of sitting still, listening for Him, and getting up close with my thoughts. But I am confident that diving into the unknown and uncomfortable will prove fruitful.

Where Warriors Are Made

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. To be honest, I do not think statistics and news reports of suicides is what it takes to convince us that a catastrophic epidemic is upon us. Allowing the reality of this world’s darkness to not only penetrate your mind but to truly pierce your heart requires YOU to want to see the reality. But who wants to dwell on the horrible truths hiding behind the statistics? Literally, no one. It would be so much easier to let mental health be an epidemic for professionals, psychiatrists, social workers, and pharmaceutical companies to deal with. I am here to tell you that many of these professionals and that medications and therapies are without a doubt a huge part of my journey back to health, but they are not even close to being the biggest part.

To make a dent in the mental health epidemic, WE MUST CHANGE. You and me. Whether you have always struggled with a mental illness or you have never even been around someone who suffers (or at least, that’s what you think), all of us must work together to cultivate a community that provides grace, a safe place to fall and be vulnerable, encouragement and empowerment. A community that eliminates this common drive for perfection and the never-ending pressures of society. A community that listens with no judgement. A community that slows down enough to see the pain in each other’s eyes and experience the joy in one another’s triumphs. This type of community is possible when we come to this realization: we are all suffering recipients of His grace that are doing the best we can with what we have to survive in this world where obstacles of all shapes and sizes are constantly thrown our way. Read that one more time. It’s important:)

In theory, this type of community seems beautiful and a little too good to be true. It seems like an abstract concept, a sort of impossible utopia. If you know me personally, you know that I have this tendency to dream really big dreams. Perhaps, this is just another one of my crazy, big dreams, but I wholeheartedly believe that this dream is worth fighting for. Will you join me in fighting for this dream to become a reality, in creating a community that makes warriors out of weak, struggling recipients of grace?

I have learned a whole lot on this journey to healing. I have learned of my own brokenness as I have made huge mistakes that took me backwards leaps and bounds just to become more exhausted as I continue to stumble forwards. I have learned so much about myself and what I need to feel whole. I have learned from others and their reactions. So with my extremely limited expertise, I would like to share what I have learned in hopes to shed some light on how this dream of a community that creates warriors could become a reality.

To those in the midst of the darkness:

• Find your tribe and let them love you. Warriors CANNOT stand alone. Try it, and you will fall flat on your face (And let me tell you from experience, it is a whole lot harder to pick yourself back up when you are facing the scary battle of depression). Do not underestimate the battle that you are facing. There is power in numbers. But remember, quality over quantity. Find people you can trust and let them in. Let them see you. (They can’t see you if you are lying and hiding. So stop.) Let them love you. Give yourself grace. Vulnerability is no where close to easy, but having a tribe is the only way you will claim the victory over depression.

• Journal. If you are not the journaling-type, become that type. Every therapist will tell you to do it, so go ahead and purchase a cute notebook and some fun pens. Science has proven the benefits of journaling. I am a perfectionist, so my journals have always been formatted beautifully in the exact same ink. Then depression hit. Sometimes the only words I could manage to get on paper were 4-letter cuss words. Sometimes I couldn’t put things into words and I would draw. I am a horrible drawer. My journal is ugly now. Even if you can only put a few words down every few days, do it. Write it down. It helps.

• Take care of your physical body no matter what. I could go on and on about the physiological necessity of this, but I won’t. Exercise (outside if you can). Eat right. Practice self-care (even when you don’t care about yourself). 

• You are never going to see the light at the end of the tunnel if you are not looking for it. Sometimes it just flickers in the distance; look down for a moment, and you might miss it. Ask people to help you hold your head up. Maybe this accountability looks like having a friend ask you every evening what you ate that day. Or maybe it looks like handing over all your self-harm tools to a trusted friend. You are exhausted and want to quit, so let others carry you when you just can’t. You have to want it, even if you don’t believe things will ever get better, let others believe for you until you can for yourself. Look for the light. 

• There is a huge difference between surviving and getting through. Most coping mechanisms are instinctive ways to help us survive, but they are not advantageous for healing. Are your reactions to stressors just allowing you to survive or are they pushing you forward to a place of healing? Ask for advice and guidance when transforming your survival instincts into healthy, helpful coping skills.

To those with friends who are struggling: 

• Depressed people don’t ask for help. They will not text when you they need you, no matter how many times you remind them to. It would take every ounce of courage to call for help in the middle of a panic attack. You cannot depend on them to reach out when they need you. People always say, “I wish I would have known how much they were struggling.” Struggling people are really good at hiding, so in their struggle, it is your turn to be the seeker. Ready, or not, here I come. I am going to come to you. I am going to text you and call you. I am going to find you in the darkness and JUST BE there with you.

• You may not be able to recognize the friend you thought you knew in this person who now has a diagnosis stamped across her forehead. That friend is silently begging for you to see her. She is not depression, or anxiety, or anorexia, or bipolar. Those are diseases; not identities. Love the friend you know, and help her see that she is still there.

• Your friend is a walking ball of shame, guilt, and insecurity. Whether she appears numb on the outside or not, she has a war raging within her. Be patient. She will say things she does not mean. Give grace, but do not give up on her. Your loving persistence is what fuels her inner-warrior. 

• Your friend wants to isolate. Your friend wants to use any avenue she can to numb the pain. Take her outside, be spontaneous, go on adventures, and do things she loves to do (especially when she doesn’t want to). 

• “I don’t know what to say. I can’t understand because I have never struggled like this.” Be honest. Talk when you need to, but mostly, just listen and be there. Ask questions. Provide a safe place for her to be vulnerable and seen. But know this, it is hard hanging out with people who are struggling, especially when you love those people deeply. It hurts your heart. Watching loved ones struggle is almost as hard as struggling yourself. Reward your courage and bravery by not carrying the weight alone. Share the burden in a confidential and healthy setting.

I have the word ‘warrior’ tattooed across my upper thigh. It is surrounded by scars inflicted by self-harm. I am ashamed of my scars. To me, they scream weakness. But they also remind me of the hell that I have been through, and my tattoo reminds me how I got through and how I continue to walk through it. I am a warrior. I have fought so hard. I have battle scars, but I am victorious. My tribe helped cultivate the warrior in me. Their grace. Their persistence. They grabbed my hand (sometimes forcefully) and walked with me in love. They saw ME in my darkness. Their love fueled my inner-warrior.

Let’s build a warrior-creating community and let our love be the fuel that carries our warriors to victory.

Lazarus Died

Now a man named Lazarus was sick. He was from Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. (This Mary, whose brother Lazarus now lay sick, was the same one who poured perfume on the Lord and wiped his feet with her hair.) So the sisters sent word to Jesus, “Lord, the one you love is sick.” When he heard this, Jesus said, “This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God’s glory so that God’s Son may be glorified through it.” Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. So when he heard that Lazarus was sick, he stayed where he was two more days, and then he said to his disciples, “Let us go back to Judea.”

“But Rabbi,” they said, “a short while ago the Jews there tried to stone you, and yet you are going back?”

Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Anyone who walks in the daytime will not stumble, for they see by this world’s light. It is when a person walks at night that they stumble, for they have no light.”

After he had said this, he went on to tell them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep; but I am going there to wake him up.”

His disciples replied, “Lord, if he sleeps, he will get better.” Jesus had been speaking of his death, but his disciples thought he meant natural sleep. So then he told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead, and for your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” Then Thomas (also known as Didymus) said to the rest of the disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

On his arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was less than two miles from Jerusalem, and many Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them in the loss of their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went out to meet him, but Mary stayed at home.

“Lord,” Martha said to Jesus, “if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.”

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.”

Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”

Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. The one who believes in me will live, even though they die; and whoever lives by believing in me will never die. Do you believe this?”

“Yes, Lord,” she replied, “I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, who is to come into the world.”

After she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary aside. “The Teacher is here,” she said, “and is asking for you.” When Mary heard this, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet entered the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. When the Jews who had been with Mary in the house, comforting her, noticed how quickly she got up and went out, they followed her, supposing she was going to the tomb to mourn there.

When Mary reached the place where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled. “Where have you laid him?” he asked.

“Come and see, Lord,” they replied. Jesus wept.

Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

Jesus, once more deeply moved, came to the tomb. It was a cave with a stone laid across the entrance. “Take away the stone,” he said.

“But, Lord,” said Martha, the sister of the dead man, “by this time there is a bad odor, for he has been there four days.”

Then Jesus said, “Did I not tell you that if you believe, you will see the glory of God?”

So they took away the stone. Then Jesus looked up and said, “Father, I thank you that you have heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I said this for the benefit of the people standing here, that they may believe that you sent me.”

When he had said this, Jesus called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.

Jesus said to them, “Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”

John 11:1-44

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Jesus loved Lazarus so deeply. Yet when Lazarus needed Him most, Jesus did NOT come to him. BECAUSE He loved him. Jesus let Lazarus suffer and die, but not without the cost of His own heartbreak. Jesus wept with compassion for His loved ones even knowing that Lazarus would soon experience the miracle of the resurrection.

Mary and Martha had seen Jesus go eagerly to the least of these to heal them and perform miraculous deeds, yet He did not show up for their brother, despite their humble and desperate pleading. I can imagine their disappointment in the Savior they thought they knew.

Jesus did not show up when they needed Him most. I can relate. In the darkest hours of my depression, I cried out to God begging Him to let me feel His presence; let me know that He had not completely abandoned me. Have you ever experienced betrayal? As the pain from betrayal sets in, doubts of if that person ever truly was your friend sink in. If God had abandoned me, if Jesus stayed distant and watched me suffer, if the Holy Spirit remained silent as I constantly begged for His presence, then was God truly who I thought He was? Was He truly good? Did He love me the way He says He does? Was the close relationship I had with Him for years just an intellectual concept pushed on me by Christian culture? Was He really just, all-powerful, and sovereign? When Jesus chose to stay where He was instead of draw near to me, these are a few of the questions that flooded my mind and stole the hope that I had placed in this God I had loved so dearly.

The fall I returned to school after that very dark summer, Hurricane Matthew hit Haiti and wreaked havoc, especially on the western end of the island. The following summer, I stayed with a Haitian family living in one of the rural cities of the western coast. I’d seen the poverty of the mountains in Haiti, but this did not compare. Hurricane Matthew had taken lives, homes, and ALL of their crops, which was their source of life. My questions continued. If God is all-powerful, all-mighty, all-loving, why doesn’t He do ANYTHING? Their repetitive prayers were going unanswered. Was God even listening? Their hearts were pure and their yearning for Him was genuine, but where was He? Where was the compassionate God I had learned so much about since I was a toddler? I wasn’t sure I wanted to serve a God that sat idly as His people suffered, withholding His presence and His power. That did not look like love to me.

The story of Lazarus shows that that is love; that Jesus did withhold His presence and His power because of His love for Lazarus. God let Lazarus die, so that he could experience the power of the resurrection and have an intimacy with Christ that He could have never imagined. God let Lazarus die, so that Mary and Martha could get rid of the illusions they had about Jesus and come closer to His heart (next chapter - Martha is preparing a meal for Jesus as Mary washes His feet with expensive perfume and her hair). God let Lazarus die, so that others would BELIEVE. Perhaps, God let me die too. Perhaps, God loved me so much that He would not compromise His plans due to my cries of desperation. Perhaps, God wept - seeing my overwhelming pain and fear. Perhaps, God let me die so I can experience the power of the resurrection. I tasted hell so I could accurately appreciate the glorious miracle of grace. Instead of running to my side, God stayed where He was and made me wait. “Through waiting we become more curious about our souls within and the world without” (Stephen Smith, The Lazarus Life). And more curious I became. Curious about this God I thought I knew, but in fact did not. I had created an image of who I thought God was. Once that image began to fail me, I thought God was wrong, not my created-image. Maybe God’s inactivity in my life and in the lives of so many suffering people around the world is not actually inactivity. But instead, maybe it is Jesus staying where He is, so Lazarus can be raised from the dead. Maybe there is something as glorious and miraculous as the resurrection around the corner for us too. I am choosing to believe that there is. I am choosing to believe that because I so desperately need to be raised up from the dead. I want new life, abundant life, free life. I am hopeful for it, and hope is an important part of believing. And I don’t think I have to know all the answers about God and His mysterious glory to step out of the tomb and into this new life. I think I just have to step towards Him when He finally after 4 days (more like 4 years for me) calls me to come forth. Selfishly, I wish Jesus would have just put on His sandals and ran to His sick brother, but deep down, I want the impossible to happen on His timetable, even if that means I always struggle with depression and doubt and I attend way too many Haitian funerals. Deep down, I want to believe that He is the resurrection and the life, because boy do I need it, and so does this hurting world.

Darkness

It began as what I would refer to as ‘spiritual warfare.’ I had just returned from Haiti and was beginning my second semester of college. At this point in my life, I had become extremely disciplined in spending time in the Word and in prayer. I have always been a pretty disciplined person and have always loved digging deep into His Word, so it became routine to wake up at 6am every morning to spend time with God. It was in these quiet mornings, before the sun had risen, that the Lord was speaking to me and pouring encouragement into me. And boy, did I need the encouragement. During the day, I was constantly combating these horrible lies with statements of truth; His Truth. Day in and day out, my mind was being flooded with so many lies. Lies about my worth, my adequacy, God’s power, His grace, etc.. And I had committed, in His strength, to fight these lies with the truth that He was whispering to me every morning. My mind, with a war raging inside, became exhausted, and it affected me physically. For the first time, I was taking naps during the day out of necessity. I was struggling to wake up for my 6 o’clock alarm every morning. I was mentally and physically exhausted. But I did not pay much attention to this exhaustion because perseverance has been modeled so well to me by people I have high respect for. And all college students take naps and oversleep and miss their 8am class, right?!

On one weekend home, my exhaustion had met its limit and cried out for my attention in the form of a panic attack. I was driving home on the interstate, and I lost all control. Crying uncontrollably, unable to catch my breath, fear overwhelming my mind in complete chaos, and hands held so tightly into fists banging on the steering wheel. I made it home somehow. But this was the beginning. Panic attacks soon became my normal. It is horrifying how quickly your mental health can deteriorate. This is when I should have reached out for professional help and asked my friends to walk with me, but I did not.

My freshman year was coming to an end, and I was going home for the summer at a complete loss of what the heck was happening to me. I was ‘too strong’ to be mentally ill. I was ‘too in love with God’ to resent Him for His lack of presence and peace. I had ‘too good of life filled with joy and a bright future’ to feel consumed by darkness and lost in hopelessness.

Anxiety and depression were winning and my desperate pleas for God’s presence or just a taste of His peace continued in vain. Depression strips you of your sense of worth, your joy, your strength, and your desire to push through. Depression replaces these things with fear, insecurity, weakness, exhaustion, confusion, and hopelessness. Depression manifests itself so differently in people, but for me, this is how I would summarize it: I had been running non-stop for years under the pressure I placed on myself, Satan began attacking my mind, and God did not claim victory - He remained quiet and distant. I felt betrayed. The Rock that I had built my foundation upon and to whom I clung to in storms was nowhere to be found in this storm that resembled hell for me. I was devastated and lost. My spiritual and mental health spiraled until I felt as if life was no longer worth living. At first, I just wanted to quit, in a very abstract sense. I felt as if I could not function any longer. Then the feelings intensified as panic attacks and dark holes of depression continued. I wanted to die. I wanted to die so very badly. Daydreams of tragic accidents turned into suicidal ideation.

I tried so very hard to execute my plan but I could not. My dad and I have always had a very close relationship. I consider him my best friend and the ultimate example of Jesus Christ in my life. In this moment when I was trying so hard, images of my father popped into my mind. I saw the devastation and heartbreak that he would experience if he lost me, and I could not do anything to hurt myself…

Less than 2 weeks later, I had quit my summer job and checked into an in-patient psychiatric hospital in Texas, where I would stay for the rest of the summer. It was the hardest thing I had ever done. I reluctantly accepted my role as a psychiatric patient and began the long, exhausting journey to healing. I talked to my dad on my hospital-provided flip phone every day, and he flew out several times to visit me. He is a remarkable human being, and his unrelenting, unconditional love for me is one of the main reasons that I am here today.

I returned to school that fall, telling only one or two people what I had gone through that summer. I was stable but I was nowhere close to healing. Every single day was a battle. I used studying as an excuse to be alone and hide. I babysat more often to keep myself distracted. I volunteered at the Birmingham Humane Shelter because emotionally I needed the joy of dogs in my life. I faked the smiles. I hid the scars - the scars inflicted by self-harm, which became my unhealthy outlet for my emotions. I lied about going to church. I continued psychotherapy and met with spiritual mentors. I cursed at God, accepting that He had abandoned me and was far gone. I survived.

I want you to see how my depression developed and how it intensified. I want you to see the signs of how my behavior was changing. I want you to see that the downward spiral is fast and powerful once it begins. I want you to see the power of love that literally saved my life. I want you to see that I chose to battle this alone, and yes that made me stronger, but not as strong as I could have been had I let people see me and love me. I want you to see that people are so good at faking happiness. I will dive deeper into my spiritual struggles in another post and express what I wish I and others would have done during this time. My purpose in this post is for you to see. See the development and the severity of depression, and know that no one should fight these daily battles alone! Don’t do it, and don’t let the people you love do it!!!! Look for the signs of changes in mental health that people are so good at hiding. I was so good at hiding!!! It became second nature to me to hide my struggles because I could not stand to place that burden on people I loved so dearly. It is hard work loving someone with a mental illness, but know that the difficulty faced in loving them could literally save them. I truly believe that love is the most powerful force in this world!!

An Invitation

This is the hardest part. Where to start. I have been working on this blog for way too long. Nothing I write seems right. I have a story to share but I am lost on how to begin this journey of putting it out there. Where do you start when the last few years have been covered in brokenness and darkness? For far too long, I have been surrounded by darkness, completely drowning in it. And now, I see, for the first time in a long time, a light at the end of the tunnel; a flicker of hope. I have this deep desire in my heart to dance in the light; to run victoriously to the freedom that the light offers. But my feet seem stuck. They are stuck to the comfort that I have established here in the dark. The comfort of solitude and going at it alone. The comfort of knowing that I can’t be hurt if I keep people at arm’s length. The comfort of knowing that letting my independence reign prevents me from depending on others and then being let down. The comfort of knowing that I am not a burden to anyone else if they only see my strength and my eagerness to be available for them in their struggle. The comfort of remaining hidden in shame instead of braving vulnerable territories. I have remained trapped by my own fear. I have cowardly chosen to remain hidden; to not let people see me and my open wounds. I let shame, fear, and pride win. These powerful forces have ruled my life for several years, and in the midst of these daily defeats, I lost myself. I lost my ability to differentiate truth from the array of lies that Satan was constantly flinging my way. And I broke. The depths of the darkness that had become my reality blinded me from so many things; things that I am still learning to see and recognize as truth. The past few years hold a lot of brokenness, trauma, and seemlessly never-ending battles for me. I made terrible mistakes along the way and I wrestled with God like I never have before. My vision clouded by my pain, I chose to keep all of these things to myself, entrusting very few with my truth.

But now, with that bright light at the end of the tunnel, with the scars that are replacing those fresh wounds, and with a desire to dance victoriously, I want to invite you in. I want to invite you in to my story not to look at me but to see Him. Because I am choosing to believe that God is faithful in every way. So this is my invitation - my invitation to witness this gruesome fight for freedom. This invitation is my bold statement of expectancy. I am expecting the Lord to perform incredible acts of mercy and display His glorious sovereignty, and I do not want you to miss it. I am expecting it to be grand and miraculous because I know the depths of my weakness and brokenness far too well. It would be far easier to share my story once victory had been claimed, but I believe there is power in joining me in my unfinished story. Because I cannot claim this victory alone. I need your support and accountability.

In the next few posts of this blog, I will be sharing my story. I am not so good with sharing my feelings and emotions, so I have always found comfort in establishing analogies and parallels for what I am going through. Immense comfort comes when I can find these connections with Biblical characters and stories.In this season, those have been the resurrection stories of Lazarus and Jesus, as well as the Israelites in the wilderness in hopes of reaching the Promised Land. Jesus did not come to Lazarus in his time of sickness and need to prevent his death, but instead, performed a miracle of raising the dead. The Israelites were freed from captivity, yet fought daily to believe that God was truly almighty. They remained in the wilderness for 40 years until their belief carried them to the Promised Land. I invite you to read my story, learn from mistakes, and witness my resurrection story, because I am choosing to believe that He is the resurrection and the life and He can do what He says He can do. I am stepping forward to find the Promised Land, where His love pours out wildly and His mercy brings unending joy.

Before I put my story into words, I want to say that some may be hurt or offended that I never shared with you what I have been going through. Please know, that my lack of letting you in has nothing to do with your value in my life. Soooo many people have loved me so well and have aided healing without knowing that I was struggling at all. It was not that I thought you were unworthy or not trustworthy, it was my shame, my pride, and Satan’s lies that kept me silent. But I am beyond thankful for the people who have walked alongside me through this journey, whether you knew you were or not.

Dare To Be A Solomon

Yesterday, I went skydiving. My older brother and I jumped out of a plane from 14,000 feet in the air. I have always had an adventurous spirit and have loved doing fun things like this. Some adventures are more daunting than others, and I thought skydiving would make me nervous at least a little bit. From the moment I googled the age limit for skydiving and found out it was 18 to the few seconds standing on the edge of the plane looking down thousands of feet below me, I never had the slightest ounce of fear. I probably should have but I didn’t. I just jumped with my heart beating in excitement and my face smiling in the exhilaration. I fearlessly, potentially risking my life, jumped out of a plane for the sake of a thrill. And that it was. (Side Note: If anyone has every had the slightest desire to go skydiving, I strongly encourage it. It was incredible!!)

 

As I was thinking about how not scared I was, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Am I that fearless when it comes to my walk with the Lord? Do I fearlessly love Him and others? Do I fearlessly stand on His promises when the waves get choppy? Do I fearlessly cling to His Word when this world doesn’t make sense? Do I fearlessly pick up my cross on a daily basis? Do I fearlessly model His love and grace everyday? 

 

In the midst of a new semester of school and the upcoming of a summer in Africa, the Lord has been daring me. Daring me to what? Daring me to be all His. What does that mean exactly? It means daring to be a Solomon. 

 

Solomon is famous for his astounding wisdom written in the book of Proverbs and displayed in his life. Son of David, Solomon became king and asked the Lord of one thing: wisdom. The Lord, pleased with his request, granted it to him. With this wisdom, the Lord equipped Solomon to be the builder of His temple. There is so much to learn from Solomon’s immense wisdom. However, as I was deep in the Old Testament last semester, God taught me some different things about Solomon’s life. He taught me that Solomon’s purpose on this earth was not to be wise but to build a place for the Lord’s presence to dwell. Solomon’s life was about bringing God’s presence to His people. The process was long and hard. The building of the temple took twenty years. 1 Kings describes the innumerable intricate details that went into the building of the temple. Specific measurements, designs, decorations, furnishings, and layouts were required. It was a major project. It honestly wears me out just thinking about organizing such an important task for such a long period of time. Oh it was so worth it. God’s presence was now tangibly among them. When it was finished, “the cloud filled the temple of the LORD.” (1 Kings 8:10) It gives me chills thinking about. Can you imagine watching this magnificent temple filling up with the presence of God, the God who spoke creation into being, the God who rescued you from slavery, the God who performed miracles to save you, the God who called you His. His presence visibly filled the temple. 

 

It’s amazing to sit here and marvel at this moment in history. It’s another thing to fall on your knees and ask the Lord to do the same in your life. We live in a post-Jesus era. We are that temple of God that is filled with His Spirit. That’s us. You and me. We are the visible, tangible presence of God in this world. We are the temple of God on this earth building the expansion of His kingdom. The more temples there are, the larger His kingdom is. No greater joy exists in this world other than imagining the day where we see the Lord’s forever kingdom and hoping it is overflowing with people. I was listening to a John Piper sermon the other day, and he defined love in the most profound and accurate way I have ever heard. He defined love as inviting others into the presence of God. Guess what! We are that presence here on earth. Loving others is inviting them into community so that they can experience a taste of God’s presence and fall in love with Him. This is discipleship. This is temple multiplication. 

 

God invites us to experience His presence by being His presence on the earth and inviting others to experience it as well. What intimacy with the Father we can experience when we fearlessly take the role of being His temple and temple-builder, a Solomon. But what does this look like? Honestly, I find myself asking this question too often when the Lord teaches me something. I ask Him what obedience will look like before I surrender to obedience. It does not matter what being His temple looks like exactly. I do know, like Solomon, it is a process. It is a construction process that is directed by Him alone. Let Him build. It is going to look different for every single person. It could be fearlessly loving that person that is so hard to love. It could be selling your possessions to live a more financially generous life. It could be adoption or foster care. It could be humbly serving an arrogant boss. It could be diligently working in your academic studies. It could be fostering a Christ-like community. It could be getting to know people who are nothing like you. It could be studying God’s Word with a new or struggling believer. I could go on and on. Ultimately, it does not matter with what being His presence looks like when you are so in love with His presence and want others to be in love as well. This presence that we are so in love with is available to us because He is so in love with us. The cross is why we are temples.

 

For me, I don’t know the details of being a temple, but I know I want others to experience His presence everyday and for eternity. I want to be a Solomon and build temples for others to see God in tangible ways. I want to be a Solomon in Birmingham, Alabama. I want to be a Solomon in Haiti. I want to be a Solomon in Africa. I want to be a Solomon to the ends of the earth. The Lord has dared me to be a Solomon. And I want to fearlessly take on this role of building a temple, whatever that looks like. 

 

Dare to surrender. Dare to love. Dare to be His. Dare to go. Dare to trust and obey. Dare to be a Solomon. Fearlessly jump out of the plane because adventure awaits. Adventures that far exceed the thrill of skydiving; adventure that advances the kingdom and invites others into His presence. There is nothing more exciting and nothing more exhilarating. Jump fearlessly. Dare to be a Solomon. 

Psalm 16:11

You will make known to me the path of life; in your presence is fullness of joy; in your right hand there are pleasures forever.

Psalm 27:4

One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek; that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek Him in His temple.

Breath of God

God breathed life into being at Creation. When Christ breathed His last breath, the war over death was won. Arisen from the dead, Jesus breathed the Holy Spirit into His disciples (John 20:22). All Scripture is God-breathed (1 Timothy 3:16). The breath of God is a mighty and powerful thing. How remarkable is the love of God that He breathes joy and peace into our lives through whispers and shouts. 

During this season of my life, the Lord has spoken to me in really cool ways. 

Leaving friends and family behind to begin a new stage of life at Samford University, God whispered, "I've got you. This is exciting. Just love people with all you've got."

Getting adjusted to this whole new life that comes with being a college kid, God whispered, "Life is full of changes. Finding your way is a journey. Glorify me in this journey because I'm holding your hand. You don't have to have everything figured out to bring Me praise. Have faith and worship Me in the process of figuring things out."

After receiving my first not-so-great grade on a test that I studied tirelessly for, God whispered, "Be confident in my calling on your life. Just because I have called you to it doesn't mean the load will be light just that faith is your strength. Work your hardest and let me do the rest because you can't do anything without me anyways."

When I grew tired and weary, God whispered, "I am victorious. And you are Mine."

When I felt insufficient, God whispered, "I look at you and see grace. I look at you and see my beautiful child. I look at you and wish you would just fall in my arms. I look at you and wish you would give me control. Beth, be strong in grace. My sufficient grace."

When I felt frustrated or out of control, God whispered through a sermon at Brook Hills, "Let go. Let go of this thing you think is control. It's a lie because I am the only one who holds the power to control. Let go at the foot of the cross and hold on to faith in the glorious Lord Jesus Christ."

When I felt purposeless and so far from Haiti, God whispered through a new friend, "You are going to lead a trip to Haiti." My friend said, "I just want to live life with them." That's my heart for Haiti. I told her that I was thinking about going to Haiti over Christmas break and she explained how she had been waiting for to go back.

When I felt broken-hearted and full of fear, God whispered through the presence of precious friends, "Trust me. I love you. I love this broken world. And you are not alone."

When I felt overjoyed and overcome with gratitude for the amazing people the Lord has put in my life, God whispered, "This is just a glimpse of eternity. Just get ready."

When parked at an overlook piled in the back of my car with a couple of the dearest friends overlooking a blanket of fog lit up by the lights of the city beneath it, God's voice thundered, "YOU ARE SO LOVED. This is who you are. No matter what happens in life, this is what you can come back to: you are adored by a merciful God, a loving Father, a victorious Ling, and a redeeming Savior. You are so loved by me and there's no changing that."

I came to realize that any voice I hear that speaks contrary to this truth of love is from Satan. Satan is extremely deceptive and is good at what he does. He has been on attack on life recently. How joyous it is to say that he can't win. My God has won. With a small breath of the Lord, Satan is defeated. With a small breath of the Lord, His kingdom comes. Let every breath that comes from our lungs sing His praises. Breath brings life. Thank you, Lord, for breathing life into me and my life through relationships, sermons, and fellowship with you. You are so good.

He died for this...

     This past year, I have been doing a Bible reading program to read through the whole Bible in a year. It is the ninth month of this year and I am dumbfounded by the thousands of blessings, joys, nuggets of wisdom, pieces of awestruck wonder, and beautiful pictures of Him that He has revealed to me. Within these past nine months, I have completed high school, been to Israel, experienced my two newest siblings’ first Easter, gone to Miami on choir tour, spent six weeks in Haiti, moved into college, made incredible new friends, joined a sorority, missed my family, and loved my life so, so much. That’s where the problem lies. I love my life. I love doing life with my family at home. I love doing life in Haiti. I love doing the college life with new friends. I love my life even when its hard. I love my life because of Jesus. But I should also lose my life because of Jesus. Beginning what seems like a completely new life here at Samford can be uncomfortable. Its uncomfortable because I feel a sense of responsibility for my family at home because they are one of the greatest blessings the Lord has given me. I feel a sense of homesickness for the beloved people of Haiti. I feel a sense of fear of letting go of some of the things in my “old life.” I have “sacrificed” a lot to be where I am right now. Why would the Lord want more from me? Because He loves me enough to want ALL of me. All of my broken heart, all of my sinful thoughts, all of my wretched actions, all of my strong-willed stubbornness, all of my joy of life, all of my curious soul, all of my desires. He wants all of me so desperately. He died to have all of me. 

                   5k with Dow!

              These are my friends.

     That’s the thing. That’s the thing that Lord has so fervently been teaching me these past few weeks of new life in college. He died for this, whatever this might be. He died for me so I could have an abundant life. He died so that my heart could be in several places all at want, because that is only by the power of the Holy Spirit. He died so that I could build beautiful friendships with people who are absolutely nothing like me. He died so that I could cast all my cares upon Him. He died so that we can be strengthened to carry each other’s burdens with joy. He died so that every struggle I face has hope of eternal effect. He died so that I will never be alone. He died so that everywhere I go, He is holding my hand. He died so that I could come here to Samford and “accidentally” meet a new Haitian friend. He died so that I could come here and spend one afternoon a week with eight other girls who want to go onto the mission field full time one day. He died so that I could come here and go through of book with a precious, Indian friend learning how to adequately immerse in different cultures to spread the gospel. He died so that I could meet so many friends who have internationally adopted siblings. He died so that I could learn more about Him by studying Aristotle and Augustine in my Cultural Perspectives class. 

     He died for this, whatever this may be. So going through life in the most mundane of activities, the Lord whispers, “I died for this. What are you going to do with it?” I’m going to live sacrificially. I’m going to love God and love people. I’m going to rejoice. I’m going to live by intentional faith. My response should be the same every time because His voice says the same thing every time, it is only the circumstance that changes. He died so that I can be where I am right now. He died to claim me as His own. Why live like I am not His? He died to gain victory over me. I cannot be defeated. He died to be powerful in my weakness. He died so I might run and not grow weary. 

     Approaching any situation or scenario, I can look to His face, read His Word, or lift up words in prayer and know that whatever "this" might be, He died for it. Knowing this allows my heart to be centered around the gospel throughout the day. It leaves more in awe of the personableness of the cross. Our Savior is good.

            Bid Day!!

              ADPi!!!!!!

  Where the cross stands tall,

   it is into Your arms I fall.
   At the foot of the cross.

 I bow; everything else a loss.
   At the feet of my Savior,
   I remain in awe forever.

     The cross is the hope, the joy, the redemption, the power, and the solution to anything and everything. Live in the resurrection.

"He was manifested in the flesh, vindicated in the Spirit, seen by angels, preached among the nations, believed on in the world, taken up in glory."  1 Timothy 3:16

"Then Jesus said to His disciples, ' Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me." Matthew 16:24
           
"For I knew that while I gazed on the cross, I was safe and sound."

"I saw clearly by the faith I had that there was nothing between the cross and heaven to distress me... It taught me to choose the only Jesus for my heaven, come what may."

                THE BEST ADPi FAM!!