I Think I Just Had a Moment

For as long as I can remember, I have dreaded physical activity. I have always been out of shape, and I have always felt like I was incapable of being athletic or even doing things that required coordination.

Me, far right, about age 6

 I much preferred reading over sports, and I hated every time my friends patronized me in PE. Even when I was thin in high school, it was because I had an eating disorder and I swam laps in the family's pool for hours and hours every day.

Me, left, age 17

As I grew up, I was teased a lot... I mean... a LOT about my size. It probably didn't help that I was so incredibly insecure that I never even tried to do much physical activity. As I got older, I shoved the possibility of athleticism out of my mind, and convinced myself that food was my real enemy. If I didn't eat, I wouldn't look the way that I did... so I stopped eating pretty much altogether. I lost 90 lbs the summer before my sophomore year... that's 90 lbs in about 2 1/2 months. I ate about 400 calories a day, and I swam for about 3-4 hours a day, and if I couldn't swim in our pool, I'd bum rides off my friends to swim at the local rec center, or I would walk around town as much as I could. I went from a size 20 to a size 12 in one summer, but I still only did the exercise that I knew I could do without shame over my body.


Nowadays, things aren't too much different. I have spent the majority of my life shying away from anything that could possibly humiliate me. Until this month.

Me, left (duh), November 2011

I've been trying really hard to work out every day for about two weeks now. I haven't been as disciplined as I could have been, but I am thrilled that through hard work, I've been able to see results in such a short amount of time. But, I've still kind of been playing it safe. I've been watching my portions, making sure I take vitamins, and working out about 4 times a week, but I've been ignoring the workouts that I can't seem to master, or the ones that I feel really embarrassed while doing them.

Take for instance, the aerobic move "The Grapevine."

Today, I put in an aerobics DVD, and started the program. It got to a grapevine, and I tried once and just could not get it. I've found something out about myself... two things that are diametrically opposed. 1) I love aerobic dance and 2) I have absolutely no rhythm. No joke.

I turned off the DVD and started to do my own thing, then it hit me... I was running again. I was shying away from what I thought I couldn't do... what I thought my body didn't deserve to do, and settling for something else. I turned off all of my music, and step-by-step, I went through the grapevine movement. Then I turned on my Youtube Cardio playlist, and decided I'd try it out to a beat. The first song to play was "Ready" by Britt Nicole, and let me just tell you.... I had a moment. Not only does the song describe my attitude toward Satan, and the bondage and lies I've held onto regarding my body, but I was actually doing The Grapevine to the beat.

I cannot tell you what joy filled me because of a silly aerobic step. More than that, I found myself singing along... because I am so ready to put this behind me. I am ready to stop weighing my actions based on how ashamed of my body I am. I'm ready to shed all of that pain and anger and move forward. I'm ready to stop listening to the voice of an enemy who only wants me worn down and incapacitated. I'm ready to find joy in physical movement, whether I ever lose weight or not. I'm ready to go.

"Ready"
(Britt Nicole)

Lately I've been reeling
Off the way you got me feeling
I've been tired of this for way too long
You give me answers when I didn't ask
You keep bringing up my past
Always play the same old song
Tired of buying all your lies
Acting like I am alright
So I hope you liked it last time 'cause that will be the final time I wear my painted smile
and sing along
Yesterday's where you belong

[CHORUS]
Ready, ready to put you behind me
Ready, ready to go
Ready, ready to show you the doorway
I think you need to know
That taking your time is out of the question
You're moving way too slow
I'll never stay down
I don't want you around
Ready, ready to go

Can I make it anymore clear?
You're no longer welcome here
I guess you need to hear it again
I've got a brand new life
Love's on my side
Games over, you lose I win
Yes, I'll tell you one more time
No see you later it's goodbye
Hey, you need to pay attention
I don't know how you keep missin' everything I'm trying to say
Listen close, I'm moving on

[CHORUS]

I'll put this behind me
The way you define me
Love says I'm something more
I'm over the pain
I'm done with the shame
I found what I waited for
You left me with scars
But He healed my heart
I found my place
Secure in His arms
So, I'll put this behind me
Yeah, I'll put you behind
I'll put you behind me

[CHORUS]

taking your time is out of the question
You're moving way too slow
I'll never stay down
I don't want you around
ready, ready to go

Yeah, I'll put this behind me
Taking your time is out of the question
Yeah, I'll put this behind me

The Fire of Consecration

Tonight, I'm going to write about something that I rarely ever talk about outside of my immediate family. I'm going to talk about children.

Obviously, I want children. I mean, I want children a whole lot.

Even before I met Mark, when I was in my "I want to be a nun" phase, I couldn't quite square away the concept of celibacy simply because I couldn't stomach the idea of never having children. Once married, both of us really looked forward to it. I, however, have always had a lot of trouble with my reproductive system and hormonal balances. Due to all of this, the entire span of our marriage has been a roller coaster of hope, seeming certainty, false alarms, broken hearts, and repetition of this entire list. From the time that we were married (October 2009) until the beginning of this year, I did not once have a regular or healthy period. While that might seem like a bit too much information, hear me out... when you experience healthy functions for years, and suddenly, there is an unexplained absence, it is very frustrating. It is scary. It is disheartening.

For a long time, I struggled with God. I wept in bitterness of heart, just like Hannah in 1 Samuel 1. I curled up on the floor of our apartment, run out of tears or words to pray. Nothing changed God's mind. But, of course it didn't.

In December, I shoved all of it to the back of my mind. I took a pregnancy test, knowing it would be negative, and knowing that there was nothing I could do to make it positive. I researched and selected an herbal supplement for regulating menstrual cycles, and I decided that I wasn't going to hope anymore. If it happened, it happened, and I wanted so badly not to care. At the beginning of this year, my cycle slowly began to return to regular. For six months, it came every month, right on time. Until June.

I will not lie. I was convinced that I was pregnant. There's really only one confirmation, though... And, I started my period five hours after the test came back negative. That was last Saturday.

Since then, I've cried quite a lot. I've also learned a few things.

1) No matter how much you try, it is impossible to ignore a desire that God has built into you. I can't fake not wanting a child any more than I can fake hating coffee. It is something God gave me... the desire to be a mother... and the only way that I can deal with the hearksickness that comes from my hopes being defered is to submit everything by prayer and petition to God, so that He may guard my heart. (Philippians 4:4-7)

2) I've been listening an audio Bible this week, and the story of Noah caught my attention.Sometimes, I really feel like I am "stuck in an ark" with this whole baby business. From my eyes, that is a horrible thing. It is a horrible thing to want to walk on solid, dry ground, and only be able to sit in a stinky boat with no land in sight. But when you look at what God said about it-- His reasoning for flooding, for stranding Noah and his family out in that ark for so long, it makes a lot more sense. God said that He was using the flood waters (keep in mind that water is a symbol of the Holy Spirit) to cleanse from the earth all flesh. All flesh. Could it be-- that this trapped feeling I have so often is actually God putting me in a spot where I cannot move-- cannot change my circumstances to match my desires-- because He is using His Spirit to clease from me all of my own flesh? If so, then God's promise lingers at the end... and therein lies my third lesson...

3) I am learning that our relationship with Jesus has very little to do with the past, and it only has to do with the future when that future includes Him. We are to trust Him in the present-- to love Him and relate to Him and obey Him NOW... we are to forget what is behind, and tomorrow will worry about itself... what does that leave? It leaves now. It leaves me, Jesus, and Mark... growing and learning and loving.

With all of that said, I want to express some of my desire... I want to be a future mom, even though nothing now points to that.

I am not barren, because God is the opener and closer of wombs. I am currently seeking to be cleansed (consecrated... Isabella) by an All Consuming Fire (fire of the Lord.... Josiah) that removes everything that is shakeable.

I think Mark and I have agreed on a couple of officially awesome baby names. I can't wait to meet you, Josiah and Isabella... but for now, I'm just going to sit in this ark and wait on the Lord.

Wrestling

Genesis 32 & 33
When Jacob neared his meeting with Esau, it seemed that he lacked a lot of faith.  God had already promised Jacob that he would become great within the land of his father, but still, Jacob prayed that God would not allow Esau to kill him.  He reminded himself of God's promise, but still took measures to pacify Esau.
Jacob wrestled with God that night.  He wrestled until dawn and wouldn't stop until God blessed him.  He was wretched and faithless in the face of God's promises, but he still was allowed the privilege of experiencing God face-to-face. God still blessed him. 
Lord,  show me how to wrestle.

Where are they?

I love to read blogs. I think they are a great way to broadcast thoughts, to get feedback from a wide variety of people, and to storehouse your memories. That being said, I just spent some time looking for some fellow missionary bloggers to follow. I found entire sites dedicated to cataloging missionaries in foreign countries, I found inner city missionaries whose blogs had been moved, consolidated into church program websites, or abandoned. In my search, I could not find one inner city missionary that blogged of their own volition, sharing their own thoughts, fleshing out their own salvation with fear and trembling.

I see something wrong with this picture. Not just because I want to read blogs by fellow missionaries that experience the same sorts of things that I do -- that our missionaries do-- but, also because I realize that I don't write like that... and I should. So, I suppose I'm on here to write a little resolution... again. I want to write from my heart. I want to share what God shows me, whether it's in my time alone with Him, in the community that I am seeking to minister to, or in my time working with my hands in a dirty old warehouse or vacant, desolate buildings.

I think there is a huge issue in America. It might be cliche, but we ignore our own mission fields way too often. The suburban church chooses foreign countries for mission trips and mission support-- helping the poor (sometimes), planting churches, going to dark places (sometimes)... dark places in other lands, when our land is filled with dark places, usually the places that suburbanites refuse to even drive through, as though the devastation might be contagious. So many of our large cities are rotting from the inside out, and we're letting them.

So, I'm going to write about this one. St. Louis. The dark place God has drawn me to. The things that He shows me here. The things I struggle with in this lifestyle that I have chosen. The things that bring me abundant joy.

I hope you keep reading.

Decision Point

Obviously, when I read I want to write. Lately, it seems that I can't stop reading, whether it is British or Australian chick-lit, classic short stories, whole books of the Bible in single sittings, young adult sci-fi novels, or Christian Fiction, I just can't stop. I have discovered so many new inspirational authors in the past few weeks, with no small thanks to the library's newest reading program and their mobile app for free e-books. I figured that, in light of all of this reading, I should probably start writing, for real, again. Not writing once every few weeks, tacking on a lame five or six paragraphs at the end of what I've already got, but writing for a day straight, at least once a week.

See, I am revising my novel that I self-published so many years ago. Actually, "revision" is a very poor word choice. In fact, I think I should be honest here and say that I am not revising, I am, in fact, re-writing. Why? Because, as a teenager, I wrote a very shallow novel. It was 110 pages about a fictional character who is supposed to contain all of the twisted and tied up emotions that I had as a teenager struggling with self-abuse,. Emotions about friends, family, God,  responsibility, and vulnerability. In 110 very shallow pages, with no character development and no real honesty, I can say with utmost confidence that I failed at my attempt.

So, in order to rectify this situation, I have made a decision, and I am now broadcasting this decision to the world, or whoever might read this and care. Please hold me to it, ask me about it, and when the time comes, please help me accomplish it.

I am rewriting Unvoiced. I am telling the truth. I am saying it like it really is. And, I will be finished by the end of 2012.

Waiting

Is there some fear of loss? Some unwillingness to relinquish? Some determination to have it my way? Some insistence on what I “deserve”? May I, by Your strength, let it go, and thus find a greater freedom and a more fulfilling life. - Elisabeth Elliot, The Music of His Promises

Ephesians 1 & 2

Lord, please show me how You are building Mark and me into a dwelling place for Your Spirit. Show me what You are doing, and what my part is in it.

I am finding something out about myself. I am finding out that I seriously lack passion, and I lack even more discipline than passion. When I say I am going to do something, it usually doesn't happen. This is mostly evidenced by my blog posts promising rejuvination, my novel stagnant at chapter three, and the fact that my motivational jeans are at the bottom of a drawer, still a size too small.

Ever since New Year's day, I have had a feeling that 2012 was going to change some things, but first I need to change some things.

God in the Woods

Everyone needs a letting go
A stand in the rain
A look the sky in the face
And throw your burdens at the clouds.

Everyone needs to run through the woods
To shed their skin
To breathe in. To breathe out.
To expel the poison in their bones.

My spirit is not found in steepled churches
My heart is not contained by those four walls
My confession is not boxed by wooden screens
Or by mere mortal men.

My heart dwells in the river bed
It lives in the stones
Wrapped, shaped, and smoothed by the rushing stream.
My spirit sits on the tallest of trees
Bathed by the sun, reaching uninhibited into the sky
My confessions are carried by the wind
I speak them, and they vanish to the east onto the west
And the length in between

My Jesus does not live in the temples of man.
My Lord is not contained by their four walls.
My God dwells with me.
My God is in the woods.



[and everywhere.]

Daughters of Sarah

Fear is so very common in our culture. In fact, it is so ingrained that we don't even recognize it for what it is. It is found so often in pre-nuptial agreements, in life-insurance for our infants, in all of our organic alternatives, in our activism and in our judgement of others. We base lifestyles off of paranoia, and justify our insecurity. Fear in its subtly defines us. It is also a far cry from who God made us to be.

In 1 Peter 3, this is addressed, specifically for women.

"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner-self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight. For this is how the holy women of the past who put their hope in God used to make themselves beautiful. They were submissive to their own husbands, like Sarah, who obeyed Abraham and called him her master. You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear." (1 Peter 3:3-6)

I am not writing this as an anti-feminist expose', instead, I want to focus on the last sentence of this passage. "You are her daughters if you do what is right and do not give way to fear." What is so important about this? Why did Peter choose to write about Sarah, and not some other woman from Biblical history? Let's look at a different passage. Galatians 4 and 5.

This passage talks about the story of Sarah and Hagar. When Abraham and Sarah could not conceive a child, Sarah arranged for her maidservant, Hagar to have Abraham's child in order to make haste of the situation. In the end, Hagar and her child were banished, and Sarah conceived Abraham's son, Isaac by the hand of God. Despite Sarah's rash decision and lack of faith, she is still the one to give birth to the son of promise-- Isaac. Furthermore, she is the one referred to in Galatians 4 as the free woman, representing spiritual freedom under grace, as opposed to Hagar, who represents slavery and being bound to the law.

What is the lesson here? What is the importance? Sarah is barren, but God blesses her with a child. She is submissive to her husband (and ultimately to God), and she is the representation of freedom in Christ. So what does it mean to be her daughter? Galatians 4 says that it means to live by the Spirit, rather than by the flesh. In this way, we are children of the free woman (Sarah).

There is something to be said about the correlation between living by the Spirit, and not giving way to fear. Aside from the fact that both of these things make us daughters of Sarah, they are inseparable in our spiritual lives. In fact, the only way to be fearless in life is to walk by the direction of the Holy Spirit. When we do so, we relinquish all rights. We let go of our own expectations and allow God to have His way with us. If we do not do this, the result is a nagging woman who lives from crisis-to-crisis and never trusts God or anyone that God places around her. If we choose to walk in the Spirit, we become loved and loving women who are able to laugh at the days to come, who's arms are strong for our tasks (Proverbs 31), and who willingly and lovingly call God and our husbands our masters.

(PS- The things listed in the first paragraph of this entry are only examples of things that are commonly, though not always, a product of fear in American culture.)

What Does Your Art Express?

I've had the opportunity and privilege over the past two days to spend some time working on my novel. Sitting at the computer, waiting for something to type onto the screen, I found myself playing spider solitaire more often than actually writing anything. It occurred to me that art is far more challenging that it first appears.

Over the past six months or so, Mark and I have been carried from the "newlywed" phase to a phase of exploring what God has called us specifically to do as a married couple- what is our ministry? What vision are we going to stake our lives in? What expression of the Kingdom do we see God building up around us and through us?

We know the overarching, big picture call on our lives- to reform the arts for the glory of God- but with a call like that, where on earth do you start?

It's easy to write fluff. It's easy to make something that sounds psuedo-spiritual, that ignites some sort of emotional reaction. It's easy to fulfill the worldly purpose of arts. It's easy to express yourself. But what if that isn't the purpose of art? What if our own egos and narcissism have overtaken something that God intended to change the world?

God's art isn't about us, because life isn't about us. God's art is difficult. It's difficult to create, and sometimes even more difficult to accept. It isn't just something to draw, write, paint, sing, or play. It's something you have to walk out. You can't write a song that declares "I was dead, now I'm alive," and continue to live as though you were dead.

Consecrated art doesn't express US. Consecrated art expresses GOD.

Desire of My Heart

When Jesus says to us, "You give me your life, and I'll give you Mine," He didn't just mean freedom, miracles, and authority. He meant all of it. He meant sorrow. He meant loving... giving yourself to people and receiving betrayal, hatred, and abandonment in return. He didn't promise happy. He didn't promise safe, but He did promise abundant, beautiful, and glorious. He promises GOOD, and it is the only way to the Father.

"Yes, Lord, walking in Your ways, we eagerly seek You; for Your name and Your renown are the desires of our hearts." Isaiah 26:8

I Lack Titling Skills

If we are to actively pursue a Godly life, we must constantly submit to the mind of Christ. We cannot decide one moment that we are above this, and the next fall before the throne of God, claming to be wholey dependent on the cross. In the realm of mercy, it is all or nothing. God demands out righteousness and desires our full attention focused on things of purity.

He calls us to truly love one another, keeping no record of wrongs and delighting in only truth. Our practice of quarrelling over trivialities is revolting. Our habit of building up walls composed of the Bricks of Pointlessness is nothing short of abhorent. If we were true disciples of Christ, the world would know us by our love for each other. We would fulfill this notion of a city on a hill with such passion and dignity that none could doubt our commitment to our God or His Church.

"I hope I shall be forgiven a hard word if I call this a perfect cavil. I readily own there hath been an old custom, time out of mind, for people to assemble in the churches every Sunday, and that shops are still frequently shut, in order, as it is conceived, to preserve the memory of that ancient practice; but how this can prove a hindrance to business or pleasure is hard to imagine. What if the men of pleasure are forced, one day in the week, to game at home instead of the chocolate-house? Are not the taverns and coffee-houses open? Can there be a more convenient season for taking a dose of physic? Is not that the chief day for traders to sum up the accounts of the week, and for lawyers to prepare their briefs? But I would fain know how it can be pretended that the churches are misapplied? Where are more appointments and rendezvouses of gallantry? Where more care to appear in the foremost box, with greater advantage of dress? Where more meetings for business? Where more bargains driven of all sorts? And where so many conveniences or incitements to sleep?" - Jonathan Swift, On Abolishing Christianity

Renovation

It's been a while. Good old Reluctantly Beloved and I haven't spent any good, quality time together since well before I got married. I've decided to resurrect the old blog, though. Things are happening... good things, and I'd love to share them with you.

Stay tuned.

Vanish

There is something here
Something about freedom
To see where I was
And what I am walking into
And to see all the lies
Dissipate.
To know that it is not of me
To know that I could not have done this
And to know that everything
That is drawn out of me
Is burned and refined
Not for me,
But for Him.

Are you dead?

I was 15 when I first cut myself with a kitchen knife. I was 13 the first time I decided not to eat anymore. It was a gradual process. The road to self-injury was long and subtle, as most roads to bondage are. In order to justify my actions, I went in search of every medical and testimonial resource I could find about such things. All I could find was the recurring thought that I was abnormal and the psychological promise that I would never recover from this mentality of self abuse. Fellow cutters told me that I would always struggle with the urge to harm myself-- that one never fully recovers, and the temptation will always be there.

But here is the truth, and listen closely:

WE WERE NOT CREATED TO COPE.

Let me make a suggestion here.

What if we were created to be healthy, happy individuals?
What if the way we have been treated, or the way we have treated ourselves has distorted that original intent?
What if we have submitted to a voice-- no, an enemy-- that tells us (in our own voice) that we need to feel pain, That there is something within ourselves that haunts us and presses outward and begs us to tear ourselves open just so it can be free, something that tells us that the only way to silence our own minds is to harm our physical bodies.
What if this same enemy is the one that tells us that we can never be rid of this harm?
What if I told you... you can be free of this?
What if I told you that it isn't YOUR blood that will save you?

What are you willing to die for? SIMPLY "NOT LIVING" IS NOT A GOOD ENOUGH ANSWER.

I will state today... I will declare it to you:

You have nothing to live for if you live as though you were dead.

Sink'n'Swim

"O LORD God Almighty, who is like you? You are mighty, O LORD, and your faithfulness surrounds you. You rule over the surging sea; when its waves mount up, you still them."

Psalm 89:8&9

"In him the whole building is joined together and rises to become a holy temple in the Lord. And in him you too are being built together to become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit."

Ephesians 2:21&22

Really, he is.

textile by Jenny Bergman

inspiration volume 1

WORDS

As God's fellow workers we urge you not to receive God's grace in vain. For he says,
"In the time of my favor I heard you,
and in the day of salvation I helped you." I tell you, now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation. We put no stumbling block in anyone's path, so that our ministry will not be discredited. Rather, as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships and distresses; in beatings, imprisonments and riots; in hard work, sleepless nights and hunger; in purity, understanding, patience and kindness; in the Holy Spirit and in sincere love; in truthful speech and in the power of God; with weapons of righteousness in the right hand and in the left; through glory and dishonor, bad report and good report; genuine, yet regarded as impostors; known, yet regarded as unknown; dying, and yet we live on; beaten, and yet not killed; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything.

• George MacDonald
• The Republic of Pemberly (Jane Austen Society)
• Brennan Manning

COLOR - CONTRAST - PATTERN

• Grand Revival Designs
• Damask Wallpaper Patterns @ The Inspiration Gallery
• heysusy
• Kelly A.
• Gilad Benari

I'm a sucker for a beautiful skyscape (and other pictures)