the original defibrillator

"The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end, they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness." 

Lamentations 3:22-23

New mercies have all but smooshed my grateful heart into a tiny mush of awe and wonder every morning this week. I've been reminded of these new mercies via the ridiculous sunrises God has decided to make for us recently. 

And I'm certainly not in the business of rating sunrises, but this photo isn't even close to expressing the most enrapturing moments of today's new dawn. I'm pretty sure those moments passed as I was trying to peel my face off the window pane so I could grab my phone and snap some photos. 

The deal with these new mercies is that He gives them to us fresh every morning, like a new steaming pot of coffee. And for a girl who went to bed pretty beat and weary a few nights this week, waking up to hot coffee and the Lord proclaiming "I'M GIVING YOU NEW MERCIES TODAY!" is exactly to what I needed. He's gracious to remind me that in Christ, I'm made new every day. He's so good to send gorgeous reminders (all the time) that his continuous new mercies are waves of freedom to each soul in Him. And He deeply desires to give new mercies to those souls who don't know Him, too.

For the heart that is weary, crushed, discouraged, off-kilter, traveling down the wrong path, lost, hurting, breaking, broken, uninspired, or even perfectly a-okay, the new mercies that our gracious Father gives to us are defibrillators. They wake us up from near-death to freedom, and strike away yesterday's lingering residue of awkward heartbeats. What we went to sleep still dealing with or fretting over or dreading to face again in the morning, He's washed away in the glory of a brand new dawn. Brand new mercies. Electric and exciting liberators. We get to be revived every. new. day. YAY GOD. 

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come." 

2 Corinthians 5:17

rainbows

"When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth." Genesis 9:16

This is something God said to Noah after he had been through 40 days of flooding, 150 days of floating, and even more days of being capsized on the top of a mountain. When Noah finally came off the ark, family and zoo in tow, the very first thing he did is build an altar of praise and thanks to God. (I'm noticing this is a trend in biblical heroes - leaving a trail of altars everywhere they've been. They stop in their tracks, they build, they praise. I like that. I think I'd like to leave a trail of praise and thanks everywhere I've been too.) Anyway, then God said these very words to Noah: "When the bow is in the clouds, I will see it and remember the everlasting covenant." 

Excuse me, but did GOD just say that when HE sees a rainbow HE remembers His OWN covenant with the people He HIMSELF created? 

WHAT?

Who is this gracious God? Who is this God who reminds HIMSELF of His own promise to keep holding out for us, to never wipe us out with a flood again? It blows me away that the rainbow is just as much a reminder to Him as it is to us. And when God says that every time He sees a rainbow He remembers His covenant with us, I believe Him. 

But that makes me think about all the times I've seen a rainbow and not thought about that covenant or my part in it. All the times that I've passed it by as just a pretty thing and not a sacred reminder – a tangible promise made to us by our Creator. And all those times I missed it, I know God was still being reminded. He was back in that moment with Noah, promising all over again to never give up on us. To never start over again. Goodness, 

OUR GOD IS FAITHFUL! 

Faithful to keep reminding Himself of His own covenant with us. To keep throwing rainbows up everywhere even though we miss it sometimes. To never give up on us. To always be there. 

This is the God we serve: the God who defines what faithful means by measuring above and beyond His own unattainable standard of consistency. By keeping His own promises. By doing every day what no one else can do for us. 

So, question: where is your faith small today? Do you fear He won't provide? Do you feel He doesn't care? Do think He doesn't see you? Do you not make time to give Him time? Do you believe He isn't good? Do you wonder if He's even real? Do you doubt that He's with you? Do you white knuckle the reins of your life, finances, relationships, or time? 

Maybe you should do what Noah did. Build an altar and look for the rainbow. God's made a promise. 

And He's not going anywhere.

letting go --

"You've brought me to the end of myself, and this has been the longest road." 

I had one of those moments this morning. The Lord brought me to the end of myself, and what I found there was a very tired girl with knuckles so white they were translucent. Apparently, I have  had* some unresolved control issues. 

"I'm letting go, falling into You." 

Some mornings, just as I've gotten my coffee, set my bunny rabbit (Howie) free in my room to happily destroy everything I own, and I'm starting to open my bible, I hear God say, "Go outside." By this time, I've gotten better at saying "yes." I used to say, "Wait, really? It's cold. It's dark. I'm in pajamas. And I'm pretty sure I'll never locate Howard and be able to get him back in his cage." Now I just say "yes." And I never regret it.

When I go outside on those mornings, I usually go to Murchison. The school has a hill that looks east over Austin. It's the perfect place to watch the sunrise slowly bathe the city in a new dawn. It was on the hill this morning that all my mess fell to the ground. 

"I confess I still get scared sometimes, but perfect Love comes rushing in." 

Standing there watching people run around the track below me, anticipating the moment the sun would crest over the horizon, I realized I'd been grasping some things. Little things. And it was making me tired. It was as illuminating a realization as the sunrise, because I had no clue I had control issues. Trust me, I know I have issues (I'm almost 24 and I have a bunny rabbit, so I'm well aware there are some screws loose in the ol' noggin.) 

But this morning, God so gently showed me that when I have doubts about things He has told me are sure, that's me holding on to control. When I have anxiety about the outcome of  certain situations in work or relationships, that's me holding on to control. When I have fear about the future, that's me holding on to control.

As Bethel Music's "Letting Go" was on repeat in my earbuds, I was reminded that when I hold on to stuff, I'm not experiencing the freedom of trust. Trust is stepping out onto water despite the size of the waves. Trust is not dwelling on outcomes despite the current murky circumstance. Trust is choosing joy and forbidding doubt to manifest. 

As I watched the sunrise this morning, I got to let go of the teeny, tiniest things and fall into Him. And I think releasing small things brings just as much freedom as releasing big things. Because, regardless of size, all the stuff we hold on to separates us from trust. And the freedom of falling into Him. 

So, next steps:

1. Listen to "Letting Go" by Bethel Music. Not only will it remind you of the glory to beheld in music reminiscent of the 80's, but the lyrics will encourage you. 

2. Take a big, deep breath, and let go of what you're trying to control. 

3. Experience FREEDOM in falling. Falling into Him. 

on brokenness: "the light shines in the darkness and the darkness cannot overcome it"

You know the story of Ruth in the bible? The one where Ruth is widowed and meets this studly fella named Boaz and they get married and live happily ever after? Well, God had me read that story last week.

Upon jumping into it, I thought it was because He wanted me to get something out of Ruth's character. "Okay God, how is Ruth's faithfulness and her ever immortalized quote 'Where you go, I go' going to change the way I'm faithful today?" Well, when you read scripture, always come expectant. But also always know that what you expect may be the last thing God chooses to touch on. 

When I read Ruth that morning, I didn't learn about faithfulness. I read Ruth that morning because God wanted me to see Naomi's suffering and the beautiful things he did through it (Naomi is Ruth's mother in law).

See, what you don't know is that God has exposed me to brokenness and suffering recently. He's also put a ridiculous passion in my heart for those who are broken and suffering. And, *SPOILER ALERT* we're all broken. 

Here's Naomi's story, the reader's digest version: 

• Meets love of her life, marries him, has two sons
• Famine comes to the land, has to move from home (suffering)
• Gets to new land, husband dies (suffering)
• 10 years later, both sons die (suffering)
• Left with a hopeless heart and two daughters in law 
• She attempts to send daughters in law away to start a new life for themselves, but one, Ruth, chooses to stay with Naomi ("where you go, I go")
• Changes her name from Naomi (which means 'pleasant') to Mara (which means 'bitter')
• Stays at home, stuck in grief, while Ruth goes out and gleans grain from random fields, one of which belonged to the stud, Boaz 
• Boaz "redeems" Naomi and Ruth by buying the land they had and taking them in to be his family - Ruth as his wife and Naomi as a type of mother in law
• The end - happily ever after

See, Naomi went through a BUNCH of crud. Lots of pain, lots of suffering. And it made her bitter. She believed that God's hand had gone out against her. But while she was changing her identity to bitter, God was quietly, through faithful Ruth, orchestrating her eventual redemption and protection. God never deserted Naomi, though that's what she thought. 

I was floored by what God did through Naomi's suffering. See, hard stuff like cutting, divorce, infidelity, eating disorders, sexual abuse, familial dysfunction, self loathing, porn addiction, fear, extreme shame for past sins with boyfriends/girlfriends, being bullied, suicidal thoughts, being angry at dad/mom, deep discontentment with your life, homosexual temptations, self/bodily insecurity, and deep loss are all bad, evil, sad, horrendous things. But the truth of this story is God can use anything for his purposes.  

The coolest part of Naomi's story is what I haven't told you yet. See, after they got married Ruth and Boaz had a baby boy named Obed. And Obed gave Naomi insurmountable amounts of joy - who doesn't want to be a grandmother? Obed grew up and he had a kid too, a boy, named Jesse. Then Jesse grew up and he had a boy too, named David. And David grew up to be a shepherd boy, a king, and also the great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great great grandfather of Jesus. 

Out of Naomi's suffering came Jesus. 

Literally.

Out of Naomi's pain and heartache came the Savior who 

would forever alleviate pain and heartache. 

If Naomi hadn't lost her family, Ruth would have never met/married Boaz. And who knows how God would have chosen to get Jesus to earth? But He used the hard stuff Naomi went through for His glory. That doesn't mean it wasn't hard. But it did have purpose. And it was redeemed. 

I got to share this story at church yesterday. And I encouraged my little family of awesome youth people to do a couple of things if they've experienced, are currently experiencing, or are watching a loved one experience hard stuff:

1. Remember that God can use anything for his purposes. In our suffering, we usually only see just that: our suffering. But God can use it. Just like Naomi. 
2. Don't let your suffering become your identity. Don't change your name to bitter. Don't let your struggle, pain, secret sin, or heartache become who you are. Because it's not. It's something you go through as a result of being a resident of this broken world. And it doesn't have to define you. How you may ask? Well... 
3. Talk about it - in a safe place with a safe person you trust. 

John 1:5 says this

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness cannot overcome it.

Friends, keeping things in the dark will only make them darker. Even though it's hard and personal and embarrassing and gross and makes us look weak, we have to talk about it. Because that's how chains are broken: by letting the light of truth shine on what the enemy would desire to fester in darkness forever. And the light of truth says this: I see your broken, I love you anyway, and I see you as white as snow. 

The Lord just sees broken - and he sees it in ALL of us by the way - so you know you're never alone in the hard stuff. You know that when you share the hard stuff, no matter how messy it may seem, the next person is just as messy as you are. Truly. Because we mirror each other in our mess. And we've all been prescribed with grace upon grace for that mess. Jesus' blood is the cure all. And we all need it. No matter the details of your mess compared to the next person. Or my mess compared to yours. Grace upon grace for us all. Jesus' blood for us all. Hallelujah. 

So do this: remember Naomi. Remember that hard stuff doesn't just have to be hard stuff. It can be redeemed in a way you'd never dreamt. Remember that freedom comes when you let the light shine in your dark places. And chains like shame, guilt and fear have no place where light shines. And remember we're family. We're all a mess and we're all covered in His blood. And aren't we thankful? 

Hallelujah, hallelujah!

slow down

I got locked out of my house today. 

It started out with good intent. I was going to have a slow morning and sit on my wonderful new porch with a cup of coffee and enjoy the morning light in our wonderful new back yard (I recently moved into a wonderful new house). It was a very nice time with the Lord. Then it was time to go inside and proceed with my morning. 

But I was locked outside. So, I pulled at the locked door (why do we do that to locked doors?). I threw things at my room mate Hilliary's window. I knocked on the walls hoping someone would hear me. I threw more things at Hilliary's window... Nothing. 

Then I realized is that maybe God had a tiny thought for me in this silly experience (a thought other than make sure the knob is unlocked before you go on the porch). 

Slow down. 

See, I thought that's what I was doing drinking coffee on my porch on this Tuesday morning: slowing down. But then I was ready to rush off and move mountains and partake in today's activities. But I think the whole point of this is to not rush off - to not leave the 'slow down with the Lord' moments in the rear view mirror every day. We do that way too much. We leave the peace and quiet in the morning stillness (if we even get that time every day) and dive into our daily schedules with no company but our own human drive to be productive and accomplish things. But when we leave that slow down peace behind us each day, we leave behind our abiding in the Lord, too. And when we don't abide, we're just doing life for and by ourselves, and we're just not wired for that. Well, maybe you are. I know I'm not. I mean, who gets locked out on their porch in their pajamas for 45 minutes at 7:15 in the morning? Sheesh. 

Abiding in the Lord means that there should be no shift between the "slow down" of the morning stillness and the "speed up" of jumping into our schedules. It's not two different things, morning with Him and day at work, because it's all His. He is in all of it. We waste our productive energy and time on this earth if we leave our awareness of Him back in the 3o minute allotment of "Jesus" time we squeeze into our schedules each day. No doubt it's a good 30 minutes - He's faithful to that. But if that door had been unlocked when I turned the knob this morning, I would have simply left that quiet time with Him on the porch and stepped into transition - a busy day of doing stuff. But stuff is just stuff if we leave Him out of it. There should be no transition, no proceeding forth and no now my day starts. He alone makes life significant, so we really ought to slow our brains, cool our jets, and keep Him in every moment. 

Otherwise, you may find yourself locked out on your porch in your pajamas for 45 minutes at 7:15 in the morning.