Confession: I have a dusty Bible

I have a confession to make. I'm pretty sure I just wiped a little dust off my Bible. Symbolically and quite literally. 

 

When talking to my best friend not to long ago he commented on how his Bible was doing the exact opposite of what someone had expected it to do when it was given to him. Granted he used the Bible app like all good Christians with smart phones do, but seeing that impacted him. And I made a terribly arrogant remark about how mine has stains and rips and highlighter markings thoroughout it. And now I'm kicking my own tail for it.

Being at Johnson University, previously and to many still considered Johnson Bible College, I've found it pretty dang easy to have my Bible open every day. If not for class, chapel, or church, maybe it's a small group or a debate on whether Jesus was really a passifist or not [thats a whole other story, I'll save that for a rainy day] I was SO worried that the Bible would become a textbook - so I spent a lot of time reading it outside of school. Not as much as I should or could have, but I still tried. 

Not being being at Johnson means the Bible went on a shelf and other books got priority. Good books, hardy, challenging, emotionally driven books that kept me up all night till my eyes were puffy with tears or just pure exhaustion. Sometimes I forget how much I actually like to read. I get that from my mom. We can sit down and read for hours without even thinking to stop for food or sleep or anything. We get caught up in the stories, characters, lessons to be learned, etc. We laugh, cry, get so mad we could just stop reading - but we don't. I've read books on everything from church planting to raising over a dozen adopted girls in Africa. I jumped on the Divergent train and loved it - so I borrowed my middle school neighbors copy of Insurgent. And there is always a Donald Miller book in the mix these days too. 

Yet not once since I've been back have I touched my Bible. It doesn't matter how many books I read about the church or good Samaritans, unless I am reading, learning, and engulfing myself in scripture - applying it to my life each and every day, there is no point. That is a Jesus freaks gps. "A road map to heaven" someone once told me. 

 

I can read spiritual books written by Christian best sellers, feed and clothe the homeless, volunteer in the children's ministry every Sunday till the day I die, all while living a life for Christ. All of those things are good and what we are called to do as his followers, but if I don't have scripture to encourage me, or teach me and educate me on all of the people that have failed and succeeded. To find guidance and love and hope and the evidence of His compassion on His people. 

So tonight I am embarrassed and ashamed that I let it get to this point. That I don't consider it the first thing in the morning, or when I am having a hard time. I look elsewhere or not at all and then I am left feeling empty still. Through His word, however I am restored. And I am going to do my best to make sure dust never collects on the coolest book(s) out there. 

 

"Until I get there, concentrate on reading Scripture in worship, giving encouraging messages, and teaching people." 1 Timothy 4:13 NLT

 

#stopthedustybibles

T H E - H O U S E

My dreams haven't changed much since I was in the 6th grade. I set goals, goals that seemed hundreds of miles away - years down the road from where I stood at the time. With perspective changes, and various different experiences with people - new environments, and my own personal challenges given to myself, those dreams became a lifestyle. They became my story. {My DNA was tattooed and my heart marked up with the most colorful graffiti - translation? I was born for this. Even the Queen of England had to be taught how to do her job, raised for it or not. That is where I'm at. I am growing, stretching, and absorbing the culture for the day when it is my time.}

I started to achieve those goals. Items were being checked off just as quickly as I had added them in middle and high school. People started to see the blueprint I had laid out for myself. Some shook their heads in approval and encouraged me to work hard, love people, and do the radical things. Others. Well, some people just don't have the same heart that I do. And that's ok. It hasn't stopped me from continuing and pursing the radical - investing my whole self into what that 6th grade dream was.

 

I need a second to catch everyone up.

 

For a little over a year now I have felt the call to live in the neighborhood(s) that I work with. Which if you don't know already means a predominantly under resourced, underemployed, "inner city" community. I've had people call these areas anything from downtown, ghetto, the hood, even "the bad part of town". Depending on how I feel that day I might correct you, but most days I just let it go and know that to me, those places look and feel like home. Like a place where lives are lived and stories are waiting to be told.

 

Within that year my church bought a house in the neighborhood I felt led to call home. So of course I claimed it! I told everyone it would be mine. That I didn't care if it took 4 days, or 4 years. But somehow I would move in and be the 24/7 presence I knew I wanted to be. Then I went to school in Knoxville, not Lexington. And 4 years became the reality a lot quicker than 4 days. I would wait.

 

 



Fast forward to one of the last days of school. I got a call asking if I would be up for the challenge to move into the house for the summer with the knowledge of it being a ministry house. And for those who know me at all know what happened next - tears. I looked at my mental list of goals and in the "dream" section, that was the next thing to check off. And it would actually be happening... 3 years early.

 

The park is in walking distance. I would be just around the corner from my kids. I could play ball with the boys anytime. The house would host missional community groups, and in my mind sleep overs and girls nights with all my girly girls that don't get too excited when I play sports instead of do the art projects with them! I would be forced to get to know the neighborhood and those who reside in it even better - only though I wasn't being forced. This was my dream come true. The only problem? The actual house was falling apart.

 

Set back after set back. Satan really did not want me to be in this house. No matter what we did, we waited longer, prayed harder, asked God to show us if this was what needed to happen. He said yes every time. I was hopeful. I was optimistic. I was in love with the idea being so close to reality. Someone once told me that God doesn't do bad things, but because there is sin, bad is inevitable, and when it happens God uses those moments to teach us. To see how we react. Do we call out to Him waving our arms like a crazy person saying "save me"? Or do we hunker down - gather whatever strength we have left - wipe the tears and scrapes and try again with a different approach? Neither one of those reactions are bad ones. I guess it just depends on the scenario and what God is trying to show the person. That's where I am currently. I am trying so hard to hear bad news, strategically reacting and figuring out what He is going to do with this pile of crap... literally broken, bowing, cracked, leaking, and half finished house on Larkwood.

 

So my living arrangements have changed for the summer. And that's ok. It hasn't stopped me from continuing and pursing the radical - investing my whole self into what that 6th grade dream was.  My dream has not changed. Whatever city, whatever neighborhood, and whatever house He calls me to. I will go. I will accept the looks of worry and judgment. I will nod as you tell me how ridiculous I am for putting myself in a dangerous environment as a young. single. white. girl. And I will even let you finish talking about how living in darkness can ruin my chance of getting into heaven. Then I will smile, walk away, pray for you, and continue to live the story God wrote out on my body years ago. I know what I have signed up for. Fully aware of the risks, dangers, violence, etc. I am also fully aware of the beauty, and community, and J wearing kids who just want someone to care about them. You don't have to join me. But you will not discourage me.

 

My heart hurts tonight... but tomorrow is a new day, and I am excited that one day my dream will be reality.

Making Moves: My Own Nest

Just hit send on an e-mail I never thought I would write. Well, I take that back. I knew this day would come eventually. The day where I got pushed out of the nest, pushed out of the tree I so strongly held onto, and then, we all laughed when I finally ventured to make a nest of my own in the exact same way as before. But with my own flare of course.

I exclaimed at dinner that I had a game plan. I knew what I wanted to do. And this was not in the cards. Not yet. And just as quickly I had burst out with emotion in saying that, he told me it was this time last year I had a game plan that didn't go my way either. And I am so thankful God changed them. He shook things up last minute and changed them for the better. Uncomfortable. That's what this has become. And the second I get used to my version of uncomfortable, God shows me what real uncomfortable looks like. Anxious. Nervous. Excited. Hesitant. Challenging. Those are the words. The feelings I have about that e-mail. And I have no idea what's to come of it. Nothing maybe. Something. Either way I have zero control over this. And I'll be honest, not having control puts me into survival mode. And that is not ever pretty.

My hearts roots were dug up last year. Torn out of this soil in a violent manner. It was my own fault though. I didn't prepare well enough. And now my roots are mobile. Even stronger than before somehow, now that they aren't attached to one location, but many. They belong in the city. And I have learned that you don't have to be stuck in one place. Your passions don't fade away with distance, you grow with it, find out that you can tend to people in similar situations all over. And they need you just like you need them. I fell in love where my roots grew first, but that love hasn't stopped. It has flourished with the changes. And sending this email is just one of the many big moves I will been making.

I am the girl who sees what needs to be done, and I do it. In this case I needed a little pushing (ok a lot) but now that it's done I am more confident that I could do it again in a year, or whenever the next opportunity arises. For once I am letting God be in control. Survival mode might not look as glamorous as having it all together, but the moment I do have it all together... that's when y'all better watch out

Simple Things Add Up

I shouldn't be allowed to sit alone for long periods of time.

It is a dangerous thing for my head and for my heart. More dangerous though, for what is to come from those thoughts, ideas, and determined dreams turned to attainable goals. So it's not bad that I allow myself time away. To process. To refuel and comprehend the conversations had. To reflect on what could have been done better and what worked pretty dang well. To give the leaky faucet time to work again, and for my cup to know no movement. Just because someone is loud from the moment they wake up to the moment they lay their head on the pillow doesn't mean they don't have the right to take a step back and just observe. I think we could all benefit from taking a seat and just letting life happen around us. I know I have learned more from taking a step back then finding myself in the center. That being said. A quiet voice doesn't automatically mean a quiet heart or mind. It also doesn't mean you should assume there is a problem. My need to recoil is for no other reason than I just need to collect the greatness and sweet life moments I have had and organize them just so I know how to thank Him the right way. And to really simmer on lessons I should have learned and honestly, just take a break from being loud. It is a full time job I swear. (Yeah you can laugh at that... I know it's ridiculous!)

                                                                                                                                       

From a basketball court with more cracks in it than an elephants tough  skin, to houses that look more like mansions. I was on opposite ends of this city this past week. And I saw it's good, bad, and ugly. Ironic enough, the places others would consider 'good' or 'bad' probably don't match my definition of 'good' or 'bad'.

Cute little coffee shops run by the most legit of hipsters, and corner stores that haven't changed in years. Churches on every street and the number or people on the steps outweigh the number in the pews.

Gated communities with views of the mountains that could take your breath away just 15 minutes down the road from shotgun homes littered with bikes, balls, and a couple shoes in the front yard.

A repurposed funeral home for the body of Christ to meet. Where food is laid out on the table, coffee mugs are distributed to all those who need help waking up, and if you get there early enough those who lead worship like to jam out - all in the name of Jesus of course! What I like most is that this building can't hold all the gifts, passions, and Jesus filled hearts that come on Sundays and they have to go out into the community to put themselves to further use. Where the people that live there don't look like us. My favorite. Here is where communion is done differently. Here is where I see my brothers and sisters in Christ become venerable and ask for prayer even when I know they got to bible school, or they themselves are a huge part of the church. Playing with the little ones that have gone through more life and more homes than I ever will. Taking part in ordained conversation that calls me out and tells me I will learn from it. Deep breath. How could this place mean this much to me already?

Saturday I got a phone call that would change it all up. Flip things on their side and be left there unattended unless I found some courage to flip them back over but see how placing it back would impact me. Toes stepped on. Names called. And bonds would be put to risk. Worth it? I would say yes. Because this has been six years in the making. I have to grow up some day right? Why wait three more years when He has called me to the broken now? Experience is greater than example that came through the grape vine. I heard stories of Bolivia that touched me. Then I went.

I prayed the other day. Not for myself. For a friend. And then I prayed again for some girls in my class. And you know what? I just realized I forgot to pray before my lunch... It's a snowball. I wish so badly to be the one who is seen as a prayer warrior. Until that day comes, I just stick to my quiet whispers. I know he hears them too... but the longing will only last so long for the day I say it with my chest again.

Some days I wish people would stop asking so many questions.
Cause quite frankly you would look at me funny if I told you the answer to your petty questions and wonder why I had an attitude. I have an 'attitude' cause I just wasted breath on a petty question you didn't even want to ask, but got to cross it off your list of people you engaged with, or someone you helped. Next person to make me part of their Christian checklist...

                                                                                                                                                      

Simple things add up.

Like the sun setting over a ghetto and how different it feels than the sun setting in the suburbs and mountains.

• running around in the sun with kids without any care in the world.
• a borrowed phone charger when yours is ratchet.
• sitting somewhere different for chapel.
• walking around a track with friends just being honest with themselves.
• a group of middle school students searching for their identity and putting it in Christ.
• having an unexpected conversation that made you question why you were even having a bad day to begin with because it was just THAT good.
• cookies
• running an extra mile (because of those cookies!)
• Making tacos in a house I always dreamed would be where I raised a football team and starting five. No one matching, all different ages, just one big house full of joy.
• random dance breaks with your roommate because you need to be a kid for 10 minutes.
• New tank tops made with love.

Not All Silence is Quiet

Sometimes the weight of silence is more comforting to me than all the trumpets as horns that heavens got. Yeah I love a good praise break, but when it comes to me and God, silence seems to be the one word description of our relationship. 

 

"Would you just listen to me!" He says. People make God out to be this super patient old man in a rocking chair just waiting for us to hear his voice. Let me tell you something. My Gods got a little bit of a temper! 

 

He doesn't yell at me though... Remember, silence is the key word here. But it's kind of like the silent treatment you'd give to your little sister when you were young. Like "until you realize what you did you don't get the privilege of talking to me" type stuff. God gets frustrated with me cause I know Him and still choose to avoid His word. 

There have been times when I finally break past the walls and barriers of noise and distraction and just sit. Which is hard cause I love the city, I love people and fellowship. I like to dance and listen to rap music way too loud. 

 

God can be found in those things, I'm not saying he can't. But I've made those things average. normal. they are not unique and I don't do them for The Lord too often. So if my God isn't average, why do I expect him to show up in my average actions? Mmm.... 

 

Now you know why He stays in the silent mode. I need to struggle with being uncomfortable for Him. To do things with him at the forefront of my mind, not somewhere deep in the dusty corner next to all my favorite Hunger Games quotes (which are coming back around more since Catching Fire comes out Nov. 22!!) ... But that's beside the point.
                                                                                                                                                           

I saw a quote the other day that said "Silence is the best response to a fool." Ouch. God knows I need help. Literally. I need Him to hold my hand through everything. Cause the moment I walk out on my own, putting my fingers in my ears, "I GOT THIS" I hear myself trying to convince the both of us... Yeah. Fool is right.

 

Our relationship is pretty hilarious. Like best friends we are competitive (I lose every time but his win is my win thank goodness!) sharing secrets during late night conversations, and there for each other no matter what. But I am really bad at this one cause I'm human and well ya know... he's GOD. I tend to roll my eyes when he nudges me, "yeah right." Often times he gets quiet because if he didn't he would just laugh... a lot. So I'm thankful for that.

 

I used to hate the silence, you could ask anyone, it drove me crazy. The feeling of not being wanted, ignored, or unable to hear the voice of God like I did a few times as a child really bothered me. Since the summer I've learned how important and valuable those small intimate moments with him are. He is screaming my name in reality. But the noise of  pure silence is louder to me than the bass in pops truck. Dang right?!

So here's to sipping my coffee a little longer in the mornings. Leaning in and really listening to what He has to tell me on these windy fall days. Writing down what gave me goose bumps that day, and what broke my heart. Spending more time immersed in his creation focused solely on him. And smiling more. Cause hey smiling just makes life better for everyone!
 

There is a Challenge in the Newness

There are a lot of things that scare me.

Actually... I thought a lot of things scared me.

Like newness.

I found out this past week I'm not scared of a lot of things. I just wasn't ready to open myself up to the newness of things. To even allot the experiences was unheard of in my own mind, therefore I 'feared' what was unknown or foreign to me. 

I thought I was afraid of what would happen after college when he told me I should get my masters in SW or Counseling. 

The idea has manifested itself deep within my head and my heart. Incubating itself because there's time to sleep on it and work it out in time.

I thought leaving my church in Lexington would be the end for me. That I would literally never find a place as real, loving, or outward focused as Crossroads. Over 10 years of my life... I wasn't afraid of not being accepted somewhere new. I was afraid to like another church. Which is silly. I've learned that I am the church and the building I sit in on Sunday mornings doesn't change that. 

Grace & Peace 

My RA and future roommate took me to her church. A home church that has in fact outgrown their home! Still growing and in it's beginning stages this group of people is not like any congregation I've ever been a part of. They are as close as family and do life together in every sense of the way. 

Coffee & Jesus

In case there is an issue in need of resolution with your neighbor, etc. There is time made for that. And if it doesn't apply to you - coffee. The fellowship is breathtaking. We eat meals together, worship, pray, set up and break down, do the fishers after the meal. Everyone is completely involved with the "production" and it's such a visual of how the body should be. 

I thought I was afraid to commit to a new church. I was under the impression children's ministry was out on hold while I was in college. Sunday I put my name down for 'child care' and their emailing list. 

For once I'm allowing myself to not be afraid. And I'm excited. 

There are a lot of quiet moments filled with the aroma of coffee I could have made better and the voice of my Savior saying "You're doing just fine." That's how I know. 

Friends, Fire, Cooking & Conversation

I tend to be a people pleaser... At least with things I care too much about. Now that I'm in college I've found there aren't that many people I care to please... #honestmoment 

I'd rather just do me and keep it going. However there are people oh get under my skin just enough to make me believe I should impress or prove something to them. Don't do that. It's not fun. 

I thought I was afraid to branch out. Afraid to say no or to have fun doing things that were out of the normal status quo. And maybe for some it wasn't as wonderful as I feel it was... But I don't hold onto that anymore. 

Praise Break! 

Symbols & Signs

The title of one of my favorite songs off the new Beautiful Eulogy album talks about the significance we put into the falling of a leaf or the way the wind blows. Now you know why it's one of my favorites. 

It's fall. The general populations favorite season. And I hate to admit it but the flannel, coffee cups, colors, and them mountains I can't stop staring at caught me and won't let go! 

Things like fire alarms at 3am, double rainbows at a friends soccer game, or rusty basketball goals on a hill calling your name. Those things have some sort of significance in my heart. And I'm thankful he likes to show up in those simple things. 

Etc.

 

I'm not afraid to admit that sometimes I get lonely despite how much I rebuke the very thought in fear I will seem as weak as they want me to be. I wish your presence was more tangible. Oh wait.

 

I am not afraid to give it all up, after all, none of it is mine to keep.

 

I was afraid to be honest with you, and myself. As silly as it is. The constant battle to communicate the real... broken poems of my heart. I will not be afraid. I will fight.

 

November has become a month of comfort and routine to many. To me it is full of newness and uncomfortable situations. The fear is gone. Bring it.

 

 

I'm Not Fighting Back

It's hard to believe that when I go home for fall break I will have been in school for   two   months. College. Johnson University. I have had a Knoxville, Tennessee zip code since August. And I can see November on the horizon. With the first half of the semester coming to a close I've found myself already looking back to the first few weeks and how much has changed since then. What I have learned, experienced, and struggled with.

Yes, people are different from you. That is not a bad thing. Sometimes it's actually good. Shocker I know. Just let their personality be and love them for it. Making friends in college is sometimes just as scary as it was in middle school. But that doesn't mean once you say "Hey, I like your Chaco's" (awkward Bible school shoe reference.. for those that don't know they are basically Jesus sandals.) you get to run and hide in the bathroom, it means you actually get to know them and possibly do life with them. It's pretty cool.

Coffee is a friend, but not an addiction... yet.

The freshman 15 is real. Run away from in (literally. but run sooner than I did!)

Not getting mail from friends or family is actually really upsetting. Which means when you do open that little metal door and see a card your life gets 50 times better.

7:35's every morning really aren't that bad when you like to listen to the earth sleeping on your way to class.

NWTS.  That is all.

Being around people 24/7 is for sure something I have had to adjust myself to. I love it and I hate it. My hall is full of lovely ladies, and I have THE BEST RA's ever. I just adore those two, and their beautiful roommates. Think of it like a hotel full of your friends, only though you never leave, and there isn't a lady to make your bed every morning. Sad.

I am convinced that room checks are to teach us how to keep a home when we are married. And if I wasn't so dang clean and organized, or afraid to get a DR I would rebel. Cause being a housewife just sounds yucky to me.

Staying up late will never be my favorite. Sleep is always better. And mornings... I still hang on to my love of mornings.

I love the city so much. I fall head over heels for it more and more everyday. ALSO Having the Smokey Mountains in the background isn't terrible. I am constantly reminded of Gods intent for a perfect world here. I am also reminded of my sins and that I do not deserve any of this, but his grace has more than covered me.

I am now volunteering at Emerald Youth Foundation. (That statement has so much meaning behind it I get chills just thinking about it.) I had so many fears, worries, and anxiety about leaving my kids back home in Lexington. And I can tell you that many days I hear the Professors kids laughing thinking they belong to my own babies, and when I realize they aren't in the same state as me my heart breaks a little.

I can no longer drive a few minutes down the road with my windows down visiting all the neighborhood kids on beautiful Sundays, playing in puddles or riding on their scooters. But I still love them. And they know that. I still pray for them, and they are the first ones I go to see once I'm home. No one will ever take their places in my heart.

But the first day I walked into Emeralds afterschool program I was nothing short of excited and nervous. Right away some of the girls waved me over to sit with them, and even some of the boys wanted help with reading. After talking to Cory (The director at EYF) I found out what the struggles were homework wise, and their strengths, because you never just focus on the negative with these kids - there is enough of that already from everyone else. 

Math sheets. Reading packets. Slobber from a girl who is convinced she is a cat. And a debate over whether mental math includes a calculator or not... these are the things I had been missing for so long. I am still learning names, and behaviors. Rules and boundaries are usually the same, right? Not always. Every kid has their own way of listening and learning. So sometimes you have to work a little harder. Not lenient, but aware of what works and what doesn't.

Today I laid on the basketball court (one of my favorite things) next to a little thing that is supposedly in 3rd grade. His size would make you think otherwise. He played with the 1st graders because lets be honest... they were almost bigger than him. He put his around mine and said "HI" The middle and high school boys playing basketball next to us looked at me funny... cause this little white girl just decided to lay right on the base line. Weird right? But I just needed to get on his level. That's all.

And we became friends. Just from asking questions on that gym floor.

I have been here for two months. And I am starting to feel this place reaching out for me, and pulling me in close. Never wanting to let me go until it knows I've been here long enough.

And for once  I'm not fighting back.