#43days Wasn’t Enough

I was home four days (count’em four) and was keeping in the spirit of my sabbatical by taking significant time to rest and study. I had lunch with my parents. I lay under the stars with Stephanie. I played guitar with the Campbell boys. I failed and then rescued a new recipe. I spent a morning reading about Elijah and Elisha (crazy stuff, btw.) And I played cowgirls with Lucy and Jude where we were on the hunt for the Dread Pirate Roberts.

And now, I’m back on a plane. Heading across the country to Oregon for a conference. Back to the city where I just was a few weeks ago. I guess #43days wasn’t enough for God!

I pulled out my journal and the Lord began to reveal, speak, impart, breathe. It seems that God often speaks to me on planes. Maybe it’s the sitting still or the lack of distractions that makes me a captive audience.

Exactly one week ago I was battling – really fighting – for my faith. I was hearing promises of God but they were bouncing off, unaffective. I could feel my heart growing hard and closed, as if ice were starting to form. That cold, damp, death-like crawl had the stench of Satan. He was trying to block hope and peace and freedom from truly taking root. He was breathing icy lies in an attempt to freeze my heart.

Why can’t I believe these promises? What is keeping me from praying in faith? Why don’t I accept that these blessings from God could be for me? Why do I doubt His goodness? What is wrong with me?

I recalled a quote from a Mark Driscoll sermon in which he said, “Does life ever seem like a freaking war? That’s because IT’S A FREAKING WAR!”

I pulled my car over on a Texas road and texted a few prayer-warrior friends to ask them to pray. Several replied with written prayers within minutes. One called me within seconds. I cried and asked God to fight for me since I could think clearly enough to do battle for my own heart. God met me that day. He calmed my heart and thwarted Satan’s advances.

But it wasn’t until today – on the plane – that I received the hope I have been asking for. You see, God isn’t interested in dispensing blessings like a gumball machine. He wants me to seek Him and to find Him and to learn Him and to love Him and to know Him. This whole thing is about a relationship with HIM, not just getting answers for my future.

I went looking for God’s promises in the book of Isaiah, which is where I found this beautiful verse…

“He will be the stability of your times,
abundance of salvation, wisdom and knowledge;
the fear of the Lord is Zion’s treasure.” (Isaiah 33:5)

Then I wrote down this promise God gave me earlier this spring…

“Even to your old age I am he and to gray hairs I will carry you.
I have made and I will bear; I will carry and I will save.
I have spoken, and I will bring it to pass;
I have purposed and I will do it.” (Isaiah 46:4, 11)

And then it clicked. I think I even smiled in my window seat.

Yet again, this is about GOD. This is not about my ability to understand. Or my capacity to believe. Or my faith level in asking for big things. It has nothing to do with me, actually. It has ONLY and EVERYTHING to do with God.

Matthew preached out of Isaiah 49 this morning at church. I flipped back a few pages in my journal to review the notes. Four promises. Heh. Promises. There’s that word I’ve been struggling with. But all of a sudden, there is hope and life and freedom in the thought instead of paralyzing fear.

Promise #1: I love you
Promise #2: I am at work in your life
Promise #3: Your weakness is a stage for My power
Promise #4: Nothing is impossible for Me

Honestly? Those four promises sum up the progression of my spiritual walk this past year. I have learned each lesson individually but never expected them to come together. God can be trusted because He is who He says He is.

He makes the deals; He keeps the deals. It’s all on Him.

And that’s the beauty and good news of the gospel. I can trust God’s promises but not because I have proven myself to be worthy, smart or godly. No matter what I’ve done, (good or bad) God loves me on the basis of Jesus. And Jesus has perfectly pleased God the Father on my behalf. I bring nothing to the bargaining table but empty hands and a broken spirit.

The Father smiles and says, “Perfect. That’s exactly what I was waiting for.”

Adventures In Texas

Texas is pretty much all it’s cracked up to be.

Easily one of my favorite states, Texas offers exactly what it markets — wide open spaces, cowboy boots, legit barbecue and southern hospitality. The local bravado seeks to always outdo itself, whether it’s placing the “lone star” on highway overpasses or flying a Texas flag above the American flag. The spirit of independence swells with every rolling hill and blows strong across every dusty plain. Texas. A place of solidarity and purpose and belonging. Natives want everyone to love their state as much as they do so there is no shame in promotion or recruiting. It makes me laugh. And want to stay forever.

I spent three weeks in Texas, the first in the Dallas/Fort Worth area staying with sweet friends and meeting up with a different person each day of the week. I am grateful for the lovely Cox family who let me crash with them on short notice and for Rosie Watson letting me borrow her car. I had fun times with Carolyne, Maegan, Lydia and Bryn as each day I traversed the DFW metro area in search of local coffee shops and delicious foodie spots.

As I packed my suitcases and prepared to drive to Tyler, TX I began to crave home. That need to sit in one place and not move. And everyone is okay with that. I was ready for my Texas retreat. My heart has been inexplicably woven into the community and families there. In particular, I knew that going to stay with the Baber family would be sweet, safe and restful. I knew it would be home.

We had many Texas adventures together, some monumental and some mundane. They included…

Roadtrip San Antonio to see the Alamo and the River Walk
Went to Mesquite for my first rodeo
Watched the farrier trim the hooves of the horses
Helped lead worship at church
Made spoon rings (and then promptly lost mine at DFW security. Gah.)
Cooked new recipes we found on Pinterest
Watched John Wayne blow up the Alamo
Became BFF’s with Baby Lou, the three legged dog
Observed guys practicing a choreographed sword fight
Saw “Camelot” at the Texas Shakespeare Festival
Experienced Canton Trade Days
Got to see Bryn, the Sherrods and the crazy Pine Cove staffers
Sat in the back of a truck to look at the stars
Lunch at the Gristmill in Gruene, TX where many TeenPact staffers have been
Coffee with my beloved friends Rhonda and Rachel
Got to visit with other local friends like Lydia, the Byrds, Brandon, Hannah, etc
Had my first Whattaburger meal

In the midst of all the Texas adventures, I drove up to Oklahoma City with Nathan, Rachel and Will. Our goal: to see the Halls and to make Halls pizza on the infamous food truck. Seeing these dear friends was therapy for my soul, for these are my Oklahoma family. We experienced local food, summer events, good conversations and — much to our delight — got to work on the pizza truck. It was quite an operation to fit 6 people in a small truck with a 700 degree wood-fired oven. But oh man, it was such fun. If you’re EVER in OKC, you must look up The Hall’s Pizza Kitchen! Our trip was topped off with my first visit to Tulsa, OK to see some beloved friends and have literally the best ribs I’ve ever tasted at Burn Company Barbecue.

My Texas weeks were more simple in a lot of ways. I’ve been processing. Applying. Obeying. Walking. Pressing in. Seeing answers. Talking out options. There’s a lot on my heart and in my mind these days, but I am slowly moving forward. More on that later.

Texas, you have been good to me, as always. You can keep your heat and humidity, but I will take your love and passion. You will always be in my heart.

God Bless Texas.

The Faces I Carry With Me

I carry with me the faces of thousands, the voices of hundreds, the souls of many. At every turn, they are there. Filling the spaces of my mind and the crevices of my heart. I am never free from their presence. They follow me like ducklings after their mother.

Every sentimental location has been stacked with layers of people and memories. I close my eyes and breathe in the moment. I tried to remember the sights, sounds, lighting and mood so as to never forget that place. With my eyes shut, I see the faces of beloved friends, students, parents and comrades. I see the ones who still keep in touch. I see the ones who unfriended me on Facebook. I see the ones I disappointed. I see the ones who went ahead of us to heaven. I see them all. Like it or not, they are woven into the very fabric of who I am.

Like a slow, visual echo their souls laugh and cry with me. This cloud of witnesses watch me make my move and absorb the moment. They create a trail of memories, faces hovering as sharp reminders. I lock eyes with one person, but a dozen peer from behind. The floating memories linger, making many days bittersweet.

And now there are no more “last days” in which I can soak up the moments. I’ve had them all. Now it’s a new set of days where I am now the shadow. I am the has-been. I am the face that peers over shoulders and lurks behind closed doors. Like a restless child, I sense my heart moving about… pacing… wandering… trying to find a new niche. Trying not to forget. Trying to move on.

But the world moves forward without me — as it should. Me and the Faces must find a new corner of the world to cultivate. But this process of emotional exile is ruthless. It demands me to detach, detox and distract myself from what has been familiar and safe. It won’t let me back in. It won’t allow me to regret my decisions. It commands me to march. Onward. Upward. Further up and further in.

But my heart is essentially broken. On some levels, I am even devastated. I do not know what to do with the echoes of these souls or the shadows of these hearts. Some travel with me, many will not. I have long harbored their hurts and absorbed their personalities; what shall I do now with this over-stretched capacity? I want to love them all. Fix them all. Provide for them all. Keep up with them all. Answer their questions. Be the friend they want me to be. Help them heal from their wounds. Help them achieve their dreams. But I can’t. Most of them are just shadows and I have to walk away knowing I cannot be who I want to be in their lives. Walk away. Move on.

Moving on means trusting that God will care for me and for the Faces that I have come to care so much about. It means letting the Shepherd be the guide, the guardian, the gentle leader. It means letting the Faces drift into proper perspective. I think they will always be there, but growing less grabby as they slowly become part of the walls. They have become a part of me, and for that I am grateful. Their laughter, tears, prayers, victories, failures and ambitions have made me who I am today. I will always carry them.

People don’t really understand the depth of my sorrow or the corresponding depth of my love. And that’s okay. They try. And for that, I am very grateful. I have no words to explain why people are so dear or places are so profound or experiences so meaningful. I have 16 years of life-changing experiences and relationships to process and file away somewhere. I really don’t know where to start.

And so the world spins madly on, never stopping long enough for me to catch my breath or readjust my expectations. I must float in the current of God’s love and let Him carry me at the pace He knows is best.

And so, dear Faces, I suppose you’ll hang around for a long time. Just be patient with me. I am freshly broken each time I see you, reminding me of all the years and layers of beautiful moments.

And, Lord, for the faces I do get to keep up close and personal — thank you.

Rinse, Massage, Repeat

A friend texted me yesterday and asked how I was feeling spiritually. I took a breath, thought for a moment and then replied with:

“I’m feeling…like God is rinsing away my moralism and massaging out my tense response to suffering. The gospel is the answer to both and I’ve been a bit overwhelmed with my need for a fresh, clear understanding. So it’s good — really good.”

And there it was. The summary of my heart in 241 characters.

I expected God to powerwash my heart on this trip. To blast away grime and filth and deep issues. And while He reserves the right to do so, my experience has been very different. He has gently rinsed. Steady, continual, loving, gentle. He sees that my heart is caked with bad habits, worldly lies and a stubborn works mentality towards God. But instead of the power of a fire hydrant, God is using the kind gurgle of a garden hose.

Rinse. Be washed in the water of His word. Sit. Soak. Absorb. Abide.
Rinse. Let the dirt run off. Let the gospel free me from my efforts to earn favor.
Rinse. Receive the love and care of the Shepherd.
Rinse. Let the dry cracks of my soul be healed.
Rinse. Allow my weary spirit to sit under the flow of Life and Truth and Peace.
Rinse. Release my strivings and efforts and let Jesus be my everything.

And then comes the massage. A direct hit on the topic of suffering. Oh, those tight muscles in my heart and knots in my soul that I didn’t even realize was there. The questions, the pain, the brokenness, the things I just don’t understand. The things I cannot fix. I realized that I’ve been clenching my teeth and holding my breath, trying to just survive in the crashing waves of grief all around me. I’ve been reading about the gospel and learning to apply it’s truth to suffering.

Massage. Feel the pressure in sensitive spots and believe it’s good pain.
Massage. Work out the knots of unbelief and tension of self-atonement.
Massage. Let the truth of the gospel help me see the suffering Savior.
Massage. Release my controlled emotions and be honest about my pain.
Massage. Abandon the familiar pain in order to receive reprieve and comfort.
Massage. Close my eyes and trust the One who sees the fibers of my being.
Massage. Be free. See God’s heart. See God’s love. Trust His hand.

God, who is rich in mercy, has been pursuing my heart. He has been showing me how I can trust myself less and trust Jesus more. Showing me how I’ve let moralism and suffering fill the crevices of my heart, taking root and choking out the fresh water of grace. Oh, how I need fresh water. My heart has grown stagnant as I’ve tried to swim in my brokenness and then pull myself out by my own understanding.

“He sent from on high, he took me;
He drew me out of many waters.
He brought me out into a broad place;
He rescued me because He delighted in me.” (Psalm 18: 16,19)

Oh, how the gospel changes everything! When I see my NEED for a Savior I can then SEE the Savior and how gloriously He has met all my needs.

The gospel is fresh water, rinsing off my legalistic moralism. It frees me from having to understand, earn, achieve, create or fulfill my own set of tasks. Moralism is a cheater, a thief, a liar. It adds weight to my load and guilt to my conscience. It tells me I must prove myself and help God with my sanctification. It steals my joy because I walk in fear of failure. But the gospel says that Jesus did it all and that I am safe and secure in HIS achievement.

Let living water satisfy
The thirsty without price
We’ll take a cup of kindness yet
All glory be to Christ

The gospel is a strong massage, reaching into the deep tissue of my soul and giving me perspective amidst suffering. It tells me that pain is real and that Jesus understands. It tells me that God is bigger. It tells me that God cares. It tells me that there will be redemption. It tells me that God sent His own Son to intercept my deepest suffering and bring me hope.

“We rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. For while we were still weak… God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” (Romans 5:3-8)

GOSPEL HOPE does not disappoint. Jesus died to give us hope. His work is finished. His work is secure. The hope He gives is secure. I have hope amidst “many waters” because He rescued me. And He rescued me because He delighted in me.

Rinse.
Massage.
Repeat.

Lessons From Oregon

The Willamette Valley in Oregon is easily one of the most peaceful and breathtaking places God created. The rolling hills paint a bluish-green border around the city, highlighted by a handful of brilliant, snow-capped peaks. Everywhere you look there are fir trees, roses, wildflowers and gardens. Wheat whitens and berry bushes offer themselves under the golden sun.

Oregon is the place is where summer becomes a bride, fully arrayed in her best and beautiful hues, making all things lovely as she dances and twirls and sings. She makes the simple moments glitter with sweetness and meaning. My favorite memories these three weeks happened while sitting on back decks, standing on tops of hills, sharing over meals, riding in cars, chatting at cafes and gazing at stars.

In both the busyness and the quiet of these past three weeks, God spoke to me. He used conversations, sermons and personal study to fill my heart with His truth. Simple, golden, sweet – just like an Oregon summer.

Here are some of the truths that I have been pondering:

1) The gospel is still the main thing – No matter what else I learn or hear or say, the gospel is what I always, always, always need. The gospel – the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ – is what frees me from sin, fear of man and isolation. The gospel informs my decisions, my suffering, my future and my identity. Without it’s defining, unalterable truths, I would be lost in my own twisted understandings.

2) God will speak when it’s time – Just as He sent the ravens to feed Elijah, God will provide morsels of truth when I need them. I need not worry or strive. They will come.

3) God is jealous for me – He wants my first, my best, my all and He is willing to pursue my life and alter my circumstances in order to draw me to Himself. What would happen if I directed all of my energies into the one relationship that mattered most?

4) God gives guidance as we move – The Shepherd is always guiding and leading; it’s His initiative and His commitment. My role is to rise and go, walking in what I know to be true and trusting His hand to guide me as I move. I can rest in His character, taking my time in each phase because I know that He will get me where He wants me to go.

5) God redeems pain – Our world is full of broken, cheating, lying, selfish, sick, grieving, angry, uncontrollable people. But there in the midst of the sorrow and wreckage, you’ll find Jesus, our sympathizer and caretaker. He is restoring what has been damaged, healing what has been broken, redeeming what has been lost.

6) God will root out spiritual pride — Our theology or experience can make us proud and blind. How easy it is to hold our freedoms, knowledge or understandings over one another as the banner implanted on the moral high ground. God is in the process of purifying His church. “True church reform doesn’t add layers but rather removes them in order to reveal the original foundation underneath. While false teachers add doctrine and complications, Jesus is rinsing His church off with His word, making the truth about Himself simple and clear.” (Gregg Harris)

I am halfway through my sabbatical. Three weeks down, three weeks to go. I’m amazed at all the adventures and lessons that can be packed into such a short amount of time. Please be praying for me as I continue to rest, wait, seek and learn.

P.S. Feel free to track my travels via photos on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram!

Lord, I Need You

The smooth smell of honeysuckles fills the air as the breeze swings the patio curtains on their rods.

My heart feels congested. So eager to breathe, but still so cluttered. I close my eyes, trying to get the fresh air clear my thoughts. All I get is a whiff of the sweet, summer flowers.

Here, under this little vine-covered nook I was going to write about my heart and questions and needs. But I feel like the Holy Spirit has stopped me and asked me just to be still. To sit. To think. To pray. To cry. To smile. To smell. To wait. To seek Jesus.

“Lord, I come, I confess
Bowing here I find my rest
Without You I fall apart
You’re the One that guides my heart

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

Where sin runs deep Your grace is more
Where grace is found is where You are
And where You are, Lord, I am free
Holiness is Christ in me

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You

Teach my song to rise to You
When temptation comes my way
And when I cannot stand I’ll fall on You
Jesus, You’re my hope and stay

Lord, I need You, oh, I need You
Every hour I need You
My one defense, my righteousness
Oh God, how I need You”

Oh God, Be My Everything

“Oh God be my everything
Be my delight
Be Jesus, my glory
My soul’s satisfied”

Some days loss, suffering, brokenness is surreal. These past few weeks have held news of death, destruction, denial and abandonment from all corners of my world. Like any human being, it’s hard to process such quantities of pain. Wave upon wave crashes onto my soul, leaving scattered questions and pieces of truth. Heartache is exhausting. Unfixable brokenness is overwhelming.

But I must fight for faith. I must believe that God is who He says He is. I must harness the truth of the gospel that tells me that God is LOVE and that He will REDEEM what has been lost, stolen or broken.

“Job lost everything. He could not fix what happened to him, much less stop or explain it. In fact, he could barely hang on. Thankfully, the good news of the gospel is NOT an exhortation from above to ‘hang on at all costs,’ or ‘grin and bear it’ in the midst of hardship. No, the good news is that God is hanging on to YOU, and in the end, when all is said and done, the power of God will triumph over every pain and loss.”

–Tullian Tchividjian, from his book “Glorious Ruin”

And I must pray. Satan wins when I just stay in bed, sad and limp and silent. God wants to hear my heart, my cry, my lament. He wants to build my faith through calling out for mercy. He wants to tend my soul by answering with gentleness and strength. He wants to be my answer, my solace, my refuge.

“Do you see that the Lord is so gracious behind all those problems and those trials? Because in His love He doesn’t want you leaning on something that is going to fall out from under you. And everything else apart from God that we lean on is unstable and untrustworthy. It’s going to crumble underneath you. And so God in his loving kindness pulls those other things away from us. We hate those moments…when all you’ve got is to lean on the faithfulness of God. But that’s true security: when we are dependent on God.”

–Joshua Harris, from his sermon “Total Trust”

Oh, God. Be my everything. Put pain in it’s perspective and make Jesus my lifeline.

At the Corner of Adventure and Fear of Man

We don’t grow unless we make ourselves respond to the opportunity.

I tend to categorize myself as a pretty adventurous person, usually eager to try to new things, go new places and mix up the normal routine. Exploring new cities, cuisines, music, movies, people and ideas are all easy. In fact, I like coaching others to branch out, grow, try, make a memory.

But sometimes I only choose the adventures in which I know am going to succeed. Or when the cost of failure doesn’t seem too steep. Or when people aren’t watching. This weekend I’ve seen some fear of man pooling in my heart, drowning out some of my adventurous leanings.

Yes, I so want to play the guitar with you! I know you’re patient and supportive. If I play I’ll just show you how incompetent I am so maybe I’ll just let you think I’m being humble. Yeah, my nails are too long. And I’m not good enough yet.

Opportunity missed.

I’m a decent catch with frisbee, even if my throw is bad. I’d love to get better and the only way to improve is to practice! But those people are so good; they will just be annoyed with me. Yeah, you guys go ahead. I’m happy to watch.

Adventure wasted.

Why do I have these random moments where I lack in confidence? What is it about other people that makes me shrink back? Even amongst good friends what keeps me from being myself? Who’s responsibility is it to foster a safe environment for adventure and growth? Do I stifle others? Do people around me feel unconditionally welcomed and supported if they want to try something new?

Another opportunity took me deeper into this concept of adventure. This weekend I didn’t make it to the top of the giant sand dune like everyone else. Between my sprained ankle and cantankerous knees, I had to stop shy of the final plateau. But you know what? I climbed higher than I thought I could. And that’s how in my weakness — in the midst of my failure — I found success.

And there, on the warm sand, I faced the Pacific Ocean, closed my eyes in the midday sun and let the cool breeze tease pieces of my hair loose. Amy sat with me. We talked about weakness and value. I told her that when we let anything other than Jesus define our value we will be hurt and disappointed. People, jobs, desires and strength will always fail. Only Jesus is steadfast. Only Jesus sees our true worth. Only Jesus defines what really matters.

Adventure redeemed.

I can’t do everything well… and that’s okay. On my own, I hate being weak and incapable. But God doesn’t value me for musical talent or athletic prowess. He doesn’t even value me for quiet times or sharing the gospel. He sees me through Jesus and that is enough. More than enough. It’s perfect. And that truth changes everything.

Author Ed Welch says this in his book, When People Are Big and God Is Small…

“All experiences of the fear of man share at least one common feature: people are big. They have grown to idolatrous proportions in our lives. They control us. Since there is not room in our hearts to worship both God and people, whenever people are big, God is not.”

And so, I come back to the thought that we don’t grow unless we make ourselves respond to the opportunity. To be adventurous, we have to choose to say yes when we are awkward and uncomfortable. We have to look to God in that moment and let Him be the determiner of our value, not the people we think are watching. We grow because we laugh at the fear of man and decide to be interesting and true instead.

And, of course, “being adventurous” isn’t the greatest goal. But seeing Jesus and being free from fear is surely a worthy cause. And thus being adventurous is merely a vehicle of godliness. It is for me, anyways.

AN OREGONIAN 4TH OF JULY

The sun was shining, the air fresh, the view clear and the wind crisp. If this is Oregon weather, I’m buying a summer home. I simply love the trees, mountains, sky and rolling hills.

I spent 4th of July Eve with my sweet friend, Lauren Reavely. I have come to adore her deep heart, thoughtful eyes, soft curls, eager laughter and passion for life. Lauren and I explored Portland coffee shops, bought exotic fruits, baked a cake, ate on the deck and talked about life and Jesus. The entire Reavely family is full of life, wisdom and creativity; I thoroughly enjoyed my time with them!

While I love 4th of July in Richmond, I was excited to experience it somewhere else. And Oregon was a great choice! We celebrated Adam McDaniel’s graduation, saw old friends, hung out on an airstrip with a vintage plane, drove country backroads, explored Snapchat, played with sparklers and did instant devos during fireworks. I am so grateful for this fun, gospel-centered, loving group of friends here!

One event in the day was unexpected, both in experience and in meaning. Three years ago the incredible Sono Harris passed away on the 4th of July. I’ve met and known various members of the Harris family over the years, and Sono has long been a woman I admired. We stood at her grave yesterday in a simple country cemetery with the summer sun setting over the hill. Her husband, Gregg, has already purchased his headstone and between the two granite slabs these lyrics were inscribed:

It is not death to die
To leave this weary road
And join the saints who dwell on high
Who’ve found their home with God

O Jesus, conquering the grave
Your precious blood has power to save
Those who trust in You will in Your mercy find
That is is not death to die

I stood there, listening as those who knew Sono talked about her quick wit, her love for the gospel, and her passionate prayers for her children. They talked about fireworks celebrating her independence day, the day she was freed from illness and pain so that she could rejoice in fullness with the Savior in heaven. These kinds of “victory” days are bittersweet because no matter how free they are, we will always have a void that is never filled and a pain that is never healed.

And so the 4th of July grows in meaning for me. I honor the lives of our forefathers who built this great nation. I honor the lives of the men and women in uniform who protect us every day. I honor the legacies of moms, dads, sons, daughters and friends who have gone before us in a blaze of glory, reminding us that Jesus is our life and heaven is our home.

Our independence — whether from the tyranny of sin, governments or sickness — is a mark of mercy given to us by the Father. Praise God for all the freedoms I celebrate today. I am truly among the extravagantly blessed.

TRAVEL UPDATE: July 2

I’ve traveled a lot over the years. I’ve been to 40 states, stayed in dozens of host homes and walked down a thousand jetways.

But today felt different. Even with my frazzled last-minute packing panic (you’d think I would have learned to avoid that) I sensed some kind of cosmic shift in the universe. It was like walking out of a cave and into the bright sunshine after a storm. From the outside, nothing has changed – I am wearing the same clothes, speaking in the same voice and carrying the same bags. But I see differently. Feel differently. View the future differently.

Maybe it sounds dramatic to say, but I really sense that I am walking across a bridge from everything I have known into everything I am going to be. And the next 43 days will each serve as a plank in path that leads to beautiful places. Maybe He really is making all things new.

SCHEDULE OVERVIEW

Here’s my basic itinerary:

July 2-17 Portland, OR
July 17-21 Salem, OR
July 21-23 TBD, OR
July 23-27 Dallas, TX
July 28-August 13 Tyler, TX

Many adventures, roadtrips, friends and bucket list items are on the docket for these weeks. I am so excited!

MY THOUSAND GIFTS: A GRATEFULNESS CATALOGUE

The chance to share my thank you/testimony on Sunday
Introducing “All Glory Be To Christ” to the church with Kelsey
My Community Group praying for me and speaking words of faith over me
Beautiful saints meeting my financial needs with surprising gifts and gestures
A pick-your-dinner and cupcake picnic “LaLa ‘Venture” with Lucy and Jude
Sweet Frog, spider tattoos, wrestling and hugs with Nathan, Caleb and Luke
Late night craft projects with Mom, Marybeth and Stephanie
Brunch, advice and power outages with Paul and Lily
Italian dinner and debrief with Mom and Dad
Kitchen conversations with Andrew and Sara
Coffee with my girls Christina, MaryAnn, Stephenia, Brittany, Kelsey and Riette
Faith-building texts and notes and prayers
Three days in Annapolis with Bethany and Elise + lunches with Lauren and Kate
Three days of laughter, sharing, adventuring and planning with Paige in Raleigh
Chicken wings and conversation at The Feed Store with Cindy in Atlanta
Answered prayers for focus and peace during two days of job interviews
Making my flight and American not weighing my bags
Potstickers and woodland explorations with Shelby

PRAYER REQUESTS

That I would sit still at the feet of Jesus…resting, listening, restoring.
That I would be a life-giving blessing to the people around me.
That God would open up job opportunities for me while I am gone

Ready for takeoff, ready for ‎#43days, ready for all things new.

Hallelujah, Jesus is my life.

Into Beautiful Places

Author Archives: Lydia Shanks