Light in the Darkness

Do you ever feel overwhelmed by all of the things outside of your control? Like the weight of them will crush you under anxiety, fear, and despair? You want to hold on, to be strong, but the injustice and the hurt is like a gaping wound that drains your life away?

Maybe this sounds severe, and admittedly it is hard to put these feelings into words. But at times the weight of that which is unknown and painful is so heavy, it can be hard to see anything else. Like the dizzying after-effects of a slap in the face, we can be blinded to all else, lost inside our clouded sense of reality.

I've been here before. It feels like teetering on the edge of a precipice with nothing to hold onto. You know you are going to be pushed in, but you don't know what's waiting at the bottom. You're afraid of falling, of what it will mean. You're afraid of what will happen when you land, of all the pieces that will break apart. You are afraid of all that you cannot control.

I think Satan likes it here. On this edge of uncertainty he can convince me of many things, that I have much to fear because only terrible things lie ahead. Because all I can see is the chasm, he has me right where he wants me: in a place where fear of "what if" keeps me blind to "what is." In this place he can fill my head with reminders of past pain, and the thought that what is coming could be worse, much worse.

It is easy to stay here, it really takes no effort. All I have to do is stay immersed in the fear, distracted by hypotheticals, and anxious that I cannot control the outcome. It is uncomfortable, but easy. With me distracted by fear, Satan can chip away at many other things, filling my head with anger, doubt, mistrust. Whether it's real or not doesn't matter, if it's in my head, it's real enough to me. It is enough to consume.

I was in such a state already this year, distracted, fearful, uncertain, when my heart was pricked by a bit of truth. Like a tiny beam of light it pierced through my clouded and foggy mind to whisper, "but what about the truth?" What about all the things I know to be true? What about the one thing I can control?

I am like Eve. I'm made of dust and bone, and I'm given a choice. I'm not someone's puppet, forced to operate on command and do only what I'm told. I can weigh my options, I can listen to what I'm told, and I can make a choice. I can control one thing: myself. And in that, I can choose what voice I will listen to, what I will believe, and what I will do.

I know how the story goes for Eve. She chose to listen to the voice of the enemy. That voice only brings death, destruction, and heartache. It led her astray, to a place of deception, fear, and pain. I've read her story many times, I live in the wake of it. But regardless, I still can choose what I will do now. Will I follow the footsteps that lead down to death, or will I choose the path of life?

That day when Truth spoke to me, I turned, drawn to its light. I stopped looking at all the things I feared, all the things outside of my control. I looked at the Light, yes, that is Jesus, so beautiful and perfect, and I said, "That is what I want to look like. Make me more like Him." That is what I chose, and will continue to choose.

I am not perfect, nor will I achieve perfection in this life, none of us will. But moment by moment, day after day, I am given a choice. I am given one thing to control. It is not the people around me--however often I think I would like to control them--it is myself. And in controlling myself, through those choices and behaviors, I am able to embody my convictions. I am able to give life to the things I wish I could change, to the beliefs I say I hold. I am able to be an image-bearer, reflecting the One who made me, embodying Him to the world.

This is no small task. It is not lost on me how utterly impossible it is; yes, at times I will fail. But it doesn't mean that I won't try. Because if I am not fighting every day to obey Christ, to honor Him, and model my life after Him, who am I replicating? Myself? If so, and I am sinful, at the root of it, I am replicating sin. And sin does not point to the Truth, it points to the enemy. Sin is his business, and I want no part in that.

I felt challenged to share this piece of my story because I want accountability. I want you to know more of my heart, I want to share the ways God is teaching me, and I want to be challenged to follow through on my choices. I want to live my calling at all times, not just when it is easy or convenient, but when it is difficult and scary. I want to be actively involved in my faith, not sidelined by fear or pain.

And I want you to join me. I want to open up dialogue, to ask questions, and to search for answers. I want to find encouragement from like-minded friends, and to encourage those who may be struggling. I want to fight alongside others, rather than do battle alone, or worse, against each other. We may not always agree or see eye-to-eye, but I believe that in the kingdom of God, what unites us is more powerful and more important than what is allowed to divide. Through unity we can build, rather than tear down. And that is what we should strive to do: build God's kingdom for His glory, not our own.

If you're struggling on the edge of fear this year, I invite you to turn to the Truth. Let Him guide you into the light and change your life forever.

"Life was in Him, and that life was the light of men. That light shines in the darkness, yet the darkness did not overcome it." - John 1:4-5

"For God has not given us a spirit of fearfulness, but one of power, love, and sound judgment." - 2 Timothy 1:7

"But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peace-loving, gentle, compliant, full of mercy and good fruits, without favoritism and hypocrisy. And the fruit of righteousness is sown in peace by those who cultivate peace. ... Therefore, submit to God. But resist the Devil, and he will flee from you. Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you." - James 3:17-18; 4:7-8a

Thoughts After Houston

Setting foot back in Texas was like coming home. It makes sense initially, the place you lived the longest and grew up should feel like home. But I had never lived in Houston, only Dallas and its surrounding cities, which is why the feeling of belonging surprised me. Everything felt right, familiar, even in a place I had never spent much time. It was strange to feel that way, and I realized I haven’t felt at home, in the way I felt then, since I left Texas. I haven’t felt at home for 18 years.

Feeling like I belonged made me brave. 

 

+ + +

 

I used to be an extrovert. Then at some point I turned into more of an introvert as a defense mechanism. It was during my sophomore year of high school, when we moved to Michigan and I didn’t fit in anywhere. I felt like an awkward outcast, so I kept my mouth shut. I learned to be quiet so that I couldn’t reveal how little I knew, how truly clueless I was. Now I’d say I’m an introverted extrovert. I’m not always good at striking up conversations or thinking of things to say. I love alone time. I second-guess how my goofy yet dry sense of humor will be received. I hate trying to make small talk. 

But the bravery I felt helped to diminish my fear of talking to strangers. I found it easy to start conversations, to engage in playful banter, to take conversations to a deeper level. I found it easy to share random stories from my life, and I didn’t feel too guilty doing it. People made me feel like they wanted to know about me. And I realized I didn't feel like that much as an adult. Maybe people just assume there isn’t much to know about a 30-something pastor’s wife. But the people we met in Texas made me feel interesting, and I was interested in them too.

 

+ + +

Being in Houston was a simple adventure. We weren’t doing anything glamorous, just working on homes that were damaged by Hurricane Harvey when it hit in August 2017. It’s funny how most of the country has forgotten about Harvey, but there is still so much work to be done. We weren't even supposed to be there, we were planning to go to Haiti. But our change of plans was God's plan all along. He had work for us to do.

 

On the outside, most of the houses in Houston look beautiful. But the inside is a different story. And isn’t that a metaphor for the human condition—outside we look so put together, but no one knows how broken we are on the inside, or how empty. So many people left and never came back, we were told.

 

We talked about this, and looked for signs of Harvey’s aftermath as we walked the neighborhood where we worked. Dead patches in the St. Augustine grass and remnants of discarded debris told stories of what had been dumped on front lawns. So many things had been ruined by the water. Videos and photos of the devastation reminded us what had happened where we stood.

 

+ + +

The house where my team worked was owned by an older gentleman who our team fell in love with. The first day he described how much water had been standing in his home, and how it had been a year since anyone had worked on his house. I fought back tears. It changes things when you stand in a home and look at a person face-to-face. It gives a voice, a name, a human spirit to the things you see on the news.

I was so glad our team got to work in his house. We felt like a little family, spending the days talking and laughing in between the work. It didn’t feel like we really did much—we spent the whole time installing trim. But it was one important step in the work that would continue after we left. And eventually maybe his house will feel like home again.

 

+ + +

We also spent a lot of time praying—each morning before we started working we “prayed in” the day. We also prayed at lunch, and at the end of the day. For a little while each day after lunch we went on prayer walks through the neighborhood. We didn’t see many people in the middle of the day and the Texas heat, but we still prayed for them. We hoped that teams after us would be able to interact more with the residents, to tell them why we were there and what we were doing.

 

We did get to meet Mr. Stewart in another neighborhood 15 minutes away, where a team from our group was working. Mr. Stewart told us stories of growing up as an African American, and what people called him. He fed us mustard greens and corn bread. He had us write down our phone numbers so he could call and make sure we made it home alright. Mr. Stewart sits in his garage every day and waves at everyone who drives past. I couldn't help wishing I could spend a year sitting in his garage, hearing his stories.

+ + +

On our last full day in Texas, a local church hosted a dinner for our group, and whoever from the community wanted to come. We all shared stories from the week, ate delicious food, and celebrated the ways we had seen God working throughout the week. We celebrated the simplest of things, like changed plans and safety navigating the complex Texas highways. It's amazing how good it feels to do something for someone else, how good it feels to watch people come alive again, how good it feels to come alive yourself.

Leaving Texas, I realized I could do that—I could help people come alive, I could help people feel important. And that it really doesn't take any extraordinarily special skills. Just the ability to look someone in the eye, to ask them a question, to listen to their answer. The ability to make someone feel seen and heard, it was an ability I had forgotten I possessed, but I didn't want to forget again. It is an ability that can open the door to so many other things.

+ + +

There was once a girl who lived in Texas and loved it—the baking heat, the state pride, the trips to the rodeo, the people she knew, all of it. And she never dreamed of living anywhere else. But over time she moved to other places, places where she never ever thought she'd live. And truthfully, at first she hated it, and wanted to move back to Texas. But then she grew used to it, and eventually accepted it, and lived in six other places after leaving her home.

And then one day she found out, after all of the years and miles had passed, that she was going back. She was going back to Texas with a group of people she had met in those other places. People who reminded her of the goodness of God, even on the darkest of days. People who showed her the beauty to be found beyond the familiar. And she realized that it had all been a gift—the leaving, the heartache, the new friends in new cities—a gift that brought her to this moment. A gift that gave her purpose.

Life was never what she expected, but it had become beautiful indeed.

In All Things, For His Glory

I have avoided writing specifically about this topic for what seems like forever. I've shared with some close friends, but didn't want to write publicly because I didn't want "everyone" to know, to speculate, to assume. But I started feeling like now was the time to share more.

I think people get it into their heads that it's better to keep things silent than share. We'd rather project a carefully crafted image than reveal a weakness. But our strength lies in what is shared, rather than what is kept silent. We need to hear from each other; we need to know that we all deal with things, some of us, with the same things. We need community and communication over competition and quiet. We need to know we're not alone.

So that's why I'm sharing this--it is something I wrote in my journal back in November 2018. But now I want to put it out there, for those walking a similar road. And those who aren't, but who might need to read this anyway and know what another road is like.

I feel like God has helped me reach a good place on the "we still don't have kids" journey. I know that sounds weird, but I don't know how else to phrase it. It has been a culmination of many things over the years, but it all seemed to come together one Sunday during a sermon. I don't remember what Sunday, or even the topic, but I just remember feeling like I could let it go, like I wanted to just release the whole thing. I wanted to let go of the sadness, the anger, the disappointment. I wanted to stop feeling sorry for myself, fully this time.

It's been a process, and I've had small moments of realization along the way. Like the time a friend announced that his wife was finally pregnant and I felt sad. As if that was some slight against me. And I realized I was missing out on experiencing the joy in life because I was allowing my sadness to consume me to the point I felt dead inside.

I decided I didn't want to waste any more time feeling sad. It didn't change over night. I still have moments where I feel sad. But I don't cling to the sadness any more. I don't wear it on my face, or call it up in the moments I see other people's baby announcements online. I don't live in it any more; I choose joy.

Another moment--or rather a collection of moments all combined--has been watching the drive to get pregnant consume people. Watching it become a relentless obsession for some, I knew I couldn't do it, I didn't want to become that. If I ran after something at all cost, I wanted it to be Jesus, not a baby. A baby brings joy, I have no doubt, but it cannot fulfill you. No person should have that place. And I knew I could become obsessed like that. I know I can fixate, I have every time I've wanted something. I can fixate until it consumes me. And though wanting to have a child isn't wrong, I knew the fixating would be. It could lead me down a road I did not want to travel, one where I could easily lose myself to an obsession with absolutely no guarantee of fulfillment.

A moment that happened more recently was a late period. I've had them before, and like some before, I took a pregnancy test which came back negative. Unlike other times, I had a split-second where I thought, directed at God, that it was cruel for Him to allow my period to be late. I knew it was wrong the moment I thought it, but I couldn't take it back.

God isn't cruel. Sin is cruel. Sin brings into our lives the pain, the problems. I didn't want to waste time thinking wrongly about God, like He was trying to torment me through this. He is the only hope and help I have at all times and in all things. He is bringing about good and His glory.

The truth is, I believe I will be a mom one day, but I think it will look different. It will be God-ordained, something that no one but He will bring to pass. I think it will be unique, something that can only be explained as an act of God so that He will get all the glory. I don't know when it will happen, but something else I've been learning is that God's story takes time. And it is His story, I am just a piece of it. But I get to be a part of it. I get to be in this story that He is writing, and I want Him to write my part as well.

I think that is something my college years and early 20s taught me. So many times I wanted to write my story, to decide the whos and whens and whats, because I thought my ideas were pretty great. I thought I could imagine the best story line for my life. There were also times I looked at my friends and thought that I would give anything to have their life and story.

I couldn't have been more wrong about any of that, but I didn't learn that until later down the road. It took time for me to learn and see that the story God was writing for me was FAR better than any I could construct. And looking back, really the only thing I wish I could do over is being better about trusting Him and waiting for His timing. Because every piece of my life--the big, amazing, important moments--have been God-ordained. They can only be explained as acts of God, things He has done.

All the things I've really wanted in life, the things I've longed for and craved, have come about in spectacular ways that only God can be given credit for. The first of these things was a sibling, and the story of Michael coming into our life is a straight-up miracle. We weren't even looking; God brought him to us.

The other one is my husband. I wanted to be married as long as I could remember, but my concept of marriage was so skewed, I really had no idea what I was wanting, or what marriage was truly like. And I don't think I ever would've imagined this marriage, it is so "other" than any concept I could have conceived, to the point that I can only credit God as the designer. Where I was so limited and simple in my concepts, He has brought depth, meaning, and complexity. Where I imagined the most human-centric dynamics and scenarios, He has given concepts and understanding beyond that, to a biblical, spiritual, and holy level.

No, on my own I never would have come up with an idea of a marriage like this. And through it, God has revealed to me a greater understanding of concepts in the Bible, of human dynamics, and why we were made for each other as male and female. And to be honest, I know I haven't even scratched the surface of godly, holy relationships. But what I have seen and come to understand demands that I praise, worship, and glorify God.

In all that I have learned, how could I not apply that to my desire to have children? How could I not allow that to shape my expectations, my wants, my plans? And if I am to do that well, I have to release it all to God, into His hands, into His care. He knows whose mother I need to be, and if, how and when it will happen. And that will be so much better than anything I could dream of on my own.

So because of that, I am releasing it all to Him. And I am releasing it because I want to be able to fully focus on where He has placed me and the ministry He has given me now. I don't want to waste time fixating, obsessing, planning, or feeling sorry for myself. I want to live fully alive in God's grace, for His glory.

It's Not Mine, Anyway

Whenever my body doesn't do what it's supposed to do, whenever something's wrong, it hurts in deeper places. My heart aches and among the things I say and do, I blame myself. As though I could somehow control the inner workings of an earthly vessel I can't begin to understand. As though it were my fault things aren't working right. And I hate myself.

I know I'm not the only one, living in a body that isn't "normal." I know others walk this road too. Others know the prying questions that underneath their semantics all ring the same, What's wrong with you? If we were honest, we'd all admit something's wrong. Just some things are easier to perceive than others.

I so easily forget, when I list what's wrong with me, that this shell in which I live, it isn't mine. It's just a rental, a temporary dwelling my soul calls home. And one day, I'll hear the One on the throne say, "Behold, I am making all things new." And that will apply to me too. Lord, I can't wait to get that new body. I can't wait for Him to take all the former things and make them new.

But for now, this is the shell for which I care. And though I may be disappointed in it, what do I gain through my anger and hatred? What will I change by cutting down the image in the mirror? What will I accomplish through my disdain other than more pain? And though this shell isn't mine forever, I know I need to care for her.

I pray for strong arms, to carry others when they are weak. I pray for kind lips that know when to speak. I pray for open hands, to give and to receive. I pray for beautiful feet that bring good news and follow willingly after the Lord. I pray for clear eyes, to see not merely earthly vessels, but the souls they contain. I pray for open ears that know how to distinguish the voice of my Lord from the voices of the world.

I pray that I know how to use this vessel for all that God has ordained. It's not mine, anyway.

A Queen's Broken Song

These days are heavy, and I've felt the weight of stories that have been told. I am inspired by the brave who have spoken out out, and they have helped me to craft something new. It's a little bit of poetry, a little bit of spoken word. If you want to read along while you listen, the text is below.

If you have been a victim, I want you to know, when you are ready, you can tell your story. It doesn't have to be today, or all at once, but I want you to know that there is a community that will listen and support you. You are not alone, you have a voice.



A Queen's Broken Song

I wrote this for the girls,

Even the ones I don’t know. 

Because I do know this:

It’s really hard to grow

And move past the pain

And speak truth to yourself

When all you feel is cheap

Like something thrown on a shelf.
   

"Be seen and not heard,

You don't have a voice,"

They've said all my life,

Like I don't have a choice.

As though I had no power,

Or purpose or goal

But in the quite moments

I was readying my soul.
   

To say it loud, join in with me now,

I’m a queen, I know I am.

A queen that’s worth more

Than just gem stones and glam.

A queen that’s respected

Who is given honor and love,

Not just by society or man

But God almighty above.
   

See He says I’m worth more

More than diamonds or gold,

Beautifully and wonderfully made,

Whether I’m young or I’m old. 

I am a queen, called by name

Given power and life

Given talents and gifts

Whether I’m single or a wife.
   

By this I’m defined,

Not by words or by deeds,

Or man's love and esteem

But by a Savior who bleeds.

Who calls me by name

And makes me His daughter

Because He paid my price

Like a lamb to the slaughter.
   

And now I’m redeemed,

Set free by the King

A woman of worth

With a song I must sing.

And a life I must live,

And a story I'll tell

'Cause I've only got one

And so I'll tell it well.

  

How people have tried 

Oh so hard to use me.

To take and to touch

And to make me to be

Something I know I'm not,

Whether by word or by power.

But something they forgot

In that darkest of hour,

  

Is that God walked with me,

More than a mile,

He's been there the whole time,

And He's seen what is vile.

He's felt my pain,

And my torment, it's true

That what was done to me

Was done to Him too.

  

Together we hurt,

Together we cried,

Together we lived,

Because One of us died.

Together we rise,

Together we stand,

I know that I'm safe

In the palm of His hand.

  

And I know that He loves me,

Which is why I can tell you,

Because of His grace,

That He loves you too.

And He wants you to change,

To become like His Son,

To leave your old life,

Because that battle is done.
   

The cross is what stands,

A reminder for sure,

That what is blemished 

Can in fact be made pure. 

He calls prodigals home,
Sets weary feet to dance,
And not just the good,
He gives each one a chance.
  
And that's my story,
A queen's broken song,
Made whole by the One
Who has loved her so long.
Made pure by the grace
He freely bestows
And now I can say,
I'm like a flower that grows.
  
More and more beautiful
Each day I become,
Not by effort or work
But because of the Son.
Because of His truth,
That transforms my heart
Because of His kingdom,
Of which I'm a part.
  
I wrote this for the girls,
And for the boys too,
For the men and women,
Because we all need You.
You change our lives,
You help us to grow,
And You love us more
Than we'll ever know.

The Road to Here

You know when you have some things on your mind for a while, and somehow they keep showing up in everything? Like different aspects of life, and God, and relationships. And how sometimes these different things intersect and shift your way of thinking?

Once I hit my 30s, I started thinking about age a lot. I still don't feel like an adult most times, but I can definitely tell I'm not in my 20s any more. I'm different, I've changed. It's kind of scary because this is uncharted territory, and I just keep getting dragged in deeper and deeper.

But something a friend had recently shared stood out to me. It was a quote that said, "Do not regret growing older. It is a privilege denied to many." And isn't that a bittersweet way of looking at something we often see as negative? One little quote adjusted the perspective that I've had the last few years, that aging is somehow a bad thing. But really it's a gift to live life, every bit that we are given.

I've also been thinking about how I got here, to this point in life. A confusing, beautiful point that I tried for so long to get to, but gave up part way through. I love that God doesn't give up on us when we grow tired of waiting on His plan. I love that He doesn't stop writing our story just because we try to take over and craft a few chapters on our own. When we lose sight of the destination, He brings us back.

I feel like all these thoughts have collided to remind me that the road to this point was long, and I am not who I once was, but it is a good thing. I'm not 18, but in the nearly 14 years since, I have experienced a journey that has grown and shaped me into the person I am today. I am far from perfect, but I am more secure in my identity in Christ than perhaps ever before. I would not trade that for all the youthfulness in the world. Aging is a gift, whether we choose to see it that way or not.

I am thankful for the road, it has brought me to so many places and people. It has helped to shape me and make me who I am. I am thankful that the road reminds me that life is about progress, not perfection. And in the times when I want to settle down and remain, the road reminds me that the movement of time and trials bring me closer to the end.

The end. It often sounds sad, like a great story has come to its lasting and final conclusion. But this end is really the beginning of a greater story, one that will make this one, this long road, seem but a distant memory.

See, the other thing I've been thinking about lately is that heaven is the ultimate goal. Which sounds simple, but can be so hard to remember here, where goals are things we set and spend our lives working for. Like jobs or money or relationships or possessions or fame. But the ultimate goal isn't something we create from our hard work or investments. It's already there, waiting for us to simply choose it. By choosing Jesus, we choose to step into the ultimate goal of heaven, where there will be no more roads or trials or tears. Just a place to remain with God, forever.

I look to heaven when things feel out of control, when the burdens and the road become too great to bear, when I feel tired and at a loss, when I want to give up. I remember that heaven is waiting, and it is better than all the good things I have ever experienced here. Heaven is the destination at the end of the road.

When I get there, I probably won't even remember the road. It will probably be like the long trip to a beloved friend's house, and how when you arrive, you instantly forget all that it took to get there. Because you're finally together, and you can't think about anything but the joy you experience at seeing that friend's face. And you rejoice, for the destination was worth all that it took to get there. Yes, I think all I'll remember was that it was worth it to get there.

All Truth Is...

I think the more you get to know Jesus, the more you see Him. The more you can hear His whisper in the strangest of places, where man thought He had been left out, where it never entered into their minds that He could be.

I once had a communications teacher who said, "All truth is God's truth." I didn't get it at the time, not really. I thought it was a nice way of saying that as long as I was writing the truth, I could write about anything at all. I thought it gave me freedom to tell any story I wanted. And maybe that's still the case, but now it means something a bit more.

"All truth is God's truth" means that in the truth He speaks, and we can find Him there. That at unexpected times, people talk about Him without even knowing it. That He is present in places we want to forget.

I once had a co-worker who said people need more love. What I heard was "people need more Jesus," as if those were the words that had actually been spoken. The world is craving Jesus, they're calling for Him blindly, without even realizing it.

I once watched a commercial about the golden rule and cried because all I could see was Jesus. Nothing about it was religious or overtly Christian, but I wept because each scene showed who I knew Jesus to be: attentive, caring, just, loving. It wasn't intended to display Him, and yet it did.

Every time I see someone go out of their way to help another person, I see Jesus. Acts of service display His heart for the world. Giving a piece of what we have reflects in some small way the immeasurable gift He gave.

All truth is God's truth, and in truth He will be found. May we never discredit the places and times where we see Him. In those moments He speaks, calling us to know His ways just a little bit more.

My Name Reminds Me

I used to be Elise Loyola. It was a name that got butchered most of the time. Elsie. Elisa. Leslie. Even Denise. And Loyola was hard for almost everyone to say, especially telemarketers. It was just a last name, like Jones or Brown, but it became a part of me. My name was tangled up in my identity.

When I got married, I couldn't let Loyola go. I would always be Elise Loyola in some way. So I kept it as my middle name, and as part of my identity. Because when I hear Loyola, when I see it written down, it reminds me of who I am. It reminds me of us--the identifiers, the family members, what has come before. It reminds me of the pieces that make up my identity.

Loyola reminds me of my grandfather. A man who came to the United States from Cuba by boat when he was 18. It reminds me that there are many relatives and family members I will never know. It reminds me that he once told me I look like his mother. It reminds me that we were once immigrants without a home or a place to belong. It reminds me that their skin is swirled within mine.

Loyola reminds me that while so many came here to pursue the American Dream, Grandpa pursued something greater. He had a Kingdom Dream, and traveled as an evangelist throughout Latin America, sharing Jesus with all who would listen. He spoke to great crowds, and in small tribal villages. It reminds me that a great sacrifice is worth the price. While the American Dream is temporary, the Kingdom Dream is eternal.

Loyola reminds me of my grandmother, who faithfully cared for my grandpa after multiple strokes left him disabled. She served him until his last breath, showing what unconditional love looks like in real life, with skin and bones. It reminds me of her joy, her smile, her dedication.

Loyola reminds me of the footsteps of those who walked before and left a legacy for me to follow. Grandpa was the first minister of the gospel that I knew of, my father was the second. Loyola reminds me of him too. A man who also has a Kingdom Dream, who has pursued Jesus with his whole life, keeping no part from God. A man who has served in meekness and humility, and in that way exemplifies Christ to me. I am challenged by these great men.

Loyola reminds me of my mother, a strong woman who has been faithful to the call of God, even when it hasn't been easy. Who has allowed God to grow and change her from the inside out. Who has faithfully walked beside my father and served alongside him. Who gave up her job to raise me and my brother. She is my example of how to live my life in constant pursuit of the Lord, surrendering many things for Him.

Loyola reminds me of what I want to become. I want to have a Kingdom Dream, to keep no part of my life from God. I want to journey wherever He calls, to serve faithfully in meekness and humility. I want to be a strong woman who gives all she can to pursue Christ. I want to leave a legacy for those I hope will follow. Whatever they are called, whether or not they are my flesh and blood, I hope Loyola reminds them of an identity they share. And I hope it reminds them of who they want to become.

Unexpected Jesus

Where is the last place you'd expect to see Jesus?

In His day, Jesus was radical, unpredictable, unexpected. The long-expected King was not what the keepers of the law and teachers expected, at all. He was different, and they often failed to recognize Him. They had built up an expectation in their minds based on their years spent studying and upholding the Scriptures. They thought they knew Him.

But they were shocked by everything: where He came from, what He did, who He spent time with, how He died. To them, everything He did was wrong.

I wonder sometimes if we're foolish to think we'd be any different. We think we know the right answers, the hills to die upon, the lines in the sand. We think we know what Jesus would look like, where He would go, what He would do. But do we?

Where is the last place you'd expect to see Jesus? Sitting at the bar down the street? At the gay pride parade? In the back alley brothel? With refugees on the run? In the waiting room of the abortion clinic? At the women's march? Spending time in the Muslim community? At the college frat party?

Where is the last place you'd expect to see Jesus? Because, Christian, He is there. He is in that place, arms wide, calling any who would come. He is there whispering His name. He is there offering peace.

And I think He is calling us to do the same. Come down from those hills, cross that line. Open your arms wide. Whisper His name. Invite any who would come.

Where is the last place you'd expect to see Jesus? Maybe that is where He is calling you to go.

Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Mark 2:17)
 

Exploring Creative Worship

Earlier this month I wrote a post about reclaiming creativity in Christianity. I have felt challenged to find ways to be more intentionally creative in how I worship, particularly in my personal time. I want to change how I view and behave in my time of Bible study and prayer as a response to the Creator. I want to reflect His creativity in an effort to glorify Him. So I have been asking, what does it look like to merge creative expression with worship?

I see many ways that the church has worked to merge creativity and worship--music, spoken word, lights, design, acts of service, potluck dinners. But as with most elements of Christianity, I know that we can do more, internally and externally. What exactly that looks like, I am hoping to uncover in the coming months.

As a first step, I am making a creative worship journal. I will be filling it with artistic pieces that I hope will reflect the truth about God creatively. It will incorporate verses, hymn lyrics, prayers, and responses to God out of my personal time of study. I will be starting with a goal of adding to the journal throughout the month of September. After that, I want to evaluate what I have learned and experienced to see what I should change and explore in the future.

As a second step, to move outside of my personal time, I will also be sharing what I design on my creative Instagram account. My hope in doing this is to authentically and truthfully honor God in a public forum. I also want to bring worship to an area of my life that I tend to engage in selfishly. I often do creative projects for myself or to earn money. While I don't think that is inherently wrong, I want to challenge myself to intentionally worship God in whatever I am doing.

If this sounds interesting to you, I want to invite you to explore creative worship as well. You can create a journal, or find another way to worship God through an area you are gifted in. Creativity is never limited to just art, it encompasses every skill from gardening to tech, parenting to cooking. Anything that we as humans can make or do is inherently creative as it is a reflection of our Creator.

If you decide to join in, please let me know. I would love to discuss your thoughts and what you are learning throughout the process.

Reclaiming Creativity in Christianity

I've been working through the latest IF:Equip study, Reflections of God: The Theology of Beauty. There have been lots of moments where I've felt like it has totally given me a huge kick in the seat. But today as I was working through some different topics on the arts it struck me just how much the Christian faith should not be boring.

I think if we're honest, we would each admit that there was at least one thing about being a Christian or about going to church that seemed boring at one point in time. It might have been the repetition and routine nature of a Sunday morning service (stand up, sit down, stand up...), or the endless silence associated with a time of prayer and Bible reading, or the exhausting language of whatever version you were reading ("thee before thou except after thine"), or a pastor's sermon that was impossible to follow and felt like it would never end.

I've been there for all of those things, and while I've tried to find the value in the midst of the seemingly mundane, sometimes it can be really hard not to check out. It can be even more hard to not view God as equally boring. After all, isn't the Christian life and church supposed to be a reflection of God? For many people, their first experience might just be that dry, routine church service, and they might think that's all there is to having a relationship with God. They might think that's all He is, a boring, routine being who speaks in old English and sits in silence.

I have loved the Reflections of God study because it has challenged this stereotypical view of God and our response to Him. And to be honest, I don't think He enjoys the boring and monotonous experience any more than we do. Certainly He desires our attention and worship, but I don't think He wants it to come from a place of stale monotony and obligation. None of us would want to be "loved" in that way, so why would God?

The first thing we learn about God is that He created. He is Creator. And He didn't create with just one color or sound or shape. He made tiny, minute animals alongside the vastness of the cosmos. He made humanity through a creative process of shaping dirt and bone to make male and female. He made an array of flavors and a tongue that could taste them. He made endless textures and the sense of touch to feel them. He spoke and with His voice He made the orchestra of sounds that fill our planet. And best of all, He made us in His image, so that we could create things too.

I look outside my window, and I see a world that is anything but boring, made by a Being who could never be boring. And yet, often times in the church and in our own lives, that is how we respond to Him. Perhaps we think that's what reverence is, a quiet, routine form of worship in which we endeavor to focus on Him alone. And there is nothing wrong with quiet or routine rhythms. But I think we do God, and worship, a disservice when we dumb it down, make it monotonous or boring, colorless or stale.

I think God wants to be worshiped in our creativity as well as our silence. He wants us to use our creative capacity to draw hearts to Him, to display His image, to worship passionately, both corporately and on our own. God wants all of us, and He wants us to tap into all that He has made us to be. We can sing and speak, move and dance, make art and music, design and illuminate, write hymns and stories, create delicious foods, grow flowers and plants, teach and train others, all for His glory.

Friends, let's change the stigma of Christianity as boring. Let's leave behind the colorless, lifeless, and the mundane for the colorful, creative, and beautiful. Let's tap into all that we can do and make to bring glory to the One who made us in His image and called us very good. Let us become the catalyst for change in how the world sees and understands the Gospel, the church, and the Christian life.

"Creativity is not an end in itself. Creativity is a means to achieving something better, something more salutary, productive, or beautiful. It exists for improvement, not impression... The gift is given for a purpose: The chief end of man is to glorify God, not man.

"Work has a duel purpose: to continue the process of creation and to counter the consequences of sin. The way you think about God influences the way you think about yourself. Thus we will be Godlike in our work if we recognize it as an assignment from Him... Creative behavior begins in the brain of a thinking individual with a desire to cause constructive change." - Howard Hendricks

Finding Grace

I can't lie--this season of life has been so hard. I've spent a lot of time, too much time, being angry. And now that the tides have begun to change, I find myself living in the aftermath. I thought I would feel relieved on this side of things, but I feel broken.

In this brokenness I see the wrongs that have been committed and I am forced to face them. And the more I look at the wrongs I feel have been done to me, I see the wrongs that have been done by me. I am forced to confront everything I believe about grace.

If you asked me what I believe about grace, I would tell you it's from Jesus, and it's for everyone. It doesn't matter what you've done, how far you've fallen, where you've gone wrong. Grace is offered freely. "Indeed we have all received grace after grace from His fullness, for the law was given through Moses, grace and truth came through Jesus Christ." (John 1:16-17) Grace through faith in Jesus saves us (Ephesians 2:8-9), I believe that with all that I am.

I believe that it is grace that empowers us beyond ourselves. It allows us to be used by God, even in the midst of our mistakes and sinfulness. It redeems us and draws us out of every pit we dig for ourselves. Grace surpasses every wrong we could commit. And grace motivates us to live like what we truly are--redeemed, forgiven, free.

But even with this grace so free, I see the ways we all struggle to give it away, whether to ourselves or to others. Somewhere in the midst of the wrong and the pain, we feel we have a right, a responsibility, to hold onto the wrongs committed. It doesn't really matter who committed them, withholding grace from ourselves or others is always the same--it's debilitating, and it's not our job.

"For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, that He might bring you to God" (1Peter 3:18a). Jesus has already paid for every wrong, He did that at the cross, giving us the ultimate gift of grace and buying our freedom. "Therefore, if the Son sets you free, you really will be free." (John 8:36) In this world starving for grace, it is a mistake to withhold the greatest gift we have been given, even to withhold it from ourselves.

I want grace in my life, every day. I haven't been perfect. I've made more mistakes than I can remember and I know on my own, I can't do anything good. But I also know that I can't be willing to offer myself grace and not offer it to others. I know that I believe grace and Jesus are available to all, and I can't stop sharing that.

This season of life has been hard, but it has also forged a new understanding of grace. I am thankful for it and pray that I will carry it with me always, giving grace freely as long as I live.

Get Off the Fence: Why Students Need You Now

I started volunteering in high school ministry because of the leaders I didn't have. As a high school student, I couldn't help but notice the lack of interest in the youth group, particularly from the older generation. I remember feeling like people were scared of us, and wishing that more people cared. As a senior, I started helping to plan and run events, and when our youth pastor left, it cemented the realization that students desperately need leaders to show up consistently.

Over the past decade, I've made it a goal not just to be a volunteer leader, but to encourage others to volunteer or continue volunteering. It's not without its challenges, but working in student ministry is always, always worth it. If you're on the fence about it, here are three key components to consider.

Show students that they matter

One of the biggest things volunteer leaders can do every week is often the simplest: just show up. Setting aside time from your life and schedule, arriving consistently and on time, and being present communicates something. It shows students that they are important, valuable, and that they matter. It shows that you are willing to invest the precious resource of your time into their lives.

No, you won't always hear people saying thank you, but over time, you will build something meaningful with your students. You will build reliability, and will show that you care. You will provide stability, and show that you are available, whenever your students need you.

These students, the next generation, they're not going to become the church once they reach adulthood. They are the church now. Students need to know that they are important co-laborers in the work that God is doing, and they need to know that they have a place. Consistent leadership helps reinforce their importance and their value.

Teach the truth

Students learn from a multitude of channels--their school, their parents, their friends, social media, and countless external sources. These channels can reinforce and teach the truth, or they can spin a tangled web of lies that can be overwhelming and impossible to navigate alone. Without a foundation of biblical truth, how can we expect students to determine what is true and what is not?

As a volunteer leader, you have an enormous opportunity and responsibility to guide students to the truth. And unfortunately, you can't always rely on other channels. Sometimes youth group is the only place where students will hear the truth about God, humanity, and our desperate need for Jesus. And sometimes, you may be the only person speaking truth into their life. It may seem daunting, but when faced with the reality of life apart from God, the work is well worth it.

Create a legacy

As members of the church, we walk in the footsteps of those who have gone before us. The decisions and actions of older generations will always affect those who follow. As leaders within the church today, now is our time to decide what we will leave behind.

Will our season of church leadership be celebrated or mourned? Will we be known for how we led with godliness and truth, or for how we kept silent? Will we be remembered for uplifting the youth of our congregations, or will we be responsible for the loss of an entire generation within the church? It's our decision to make, but each of us will leave behind a legacy.

As a volunteer leader and member of the church body, you are actively creating a legacy for your students and the generations that follow. This is your opportunity to contribute to the history of the church, to build up the body, and to set an example for the students you lead.

Consider this your invitation to get off the fence, care for students, teach biblical truth, and create a lasting legacy.

I'll Always Thank God for Iowa

Life is changing once again, in beautiful, painful, unignorable ways. I've come to learn that is how God works--He works in unexpected ways, in ways I often don't like, to move me to places I need to be. I think He does this because He knows I won't move on my own. Not without the slamming of doors, not without me kicking and screaming. Not until I realize that this is the only way.

God has taken me many places; I call it the nomad life. I don't think it's a life I would've chosen on my own, but the more I live it, the more thankful I am for it. It has brought me to more places and people than I ever would've known possible. It catches me off-guard at times, when I realize how spectacular it is to be in a place I never knew existed, colliding with the lives of people who never knew I existed.

The beauty of the nomad life exists in its painfulness--it is a kind of death that brings a new life. Something must end for something new to begin. I must leave behind people and places I have come to love in order to discover what awaits. As my time in Iowa ends, I can't help but reflect on this piece of my journey.

I tried everything not to live in Iowa. My family moved there, to Clinton, while I was in college. My first experiences of the state were on short visits and holiday breaks. After college, I tried to stay in Chicago, but cost of living quickly closed that door. Less than a year later, I tried to escape to Colorado and an idealized relationship. A year and a half later, dead ends, poor choices, and job loss left me with one alternative: return to Iowa.

Iowa became the place I called home for the next six years. It was undoubtedly a struggle at times, trying to find my place in a culture I couldn't relate to. I hadn't grown up in the Midwest, or lived on a farm, or even lived in a small town. But I met so many amazing people who became like family, who welcomed me in, and made Iowa my home.

My first Iowa family will always be the people of Clinton, particularly those from my church. They supported me through unemployment, the death of both of my grandfathers, my work at the Clinton Herald and my side photography business, my marriage to Nick, and our move to Iowa City. They opened their homes and their lives to a pastor's kid from Texas and made me part of the family.

The youth group in Clinton also helped solidify my love for youth ministry by allowing me to be a small group leader and occasional teacher. I will never forget those first students I was privileged to work with and know. It was truly an amazing experience to watch them grow up through the program, and to now see them as successful adults.

My second Iowa family has been forged through the past (almost) four years, after Nick and I relocated to the Iowa City area. Once again, a group of wonderful people welcomed us, made us feel at home, and gave us a family. We grew close to peers in our church, and the awesome group of young people who made up the youth group. Later, I would get an even bigger family through my job as I got to know and work with some of the best co-workers I've had.

I never could have guessed the bonds that would be born out of this family, a family that walked with us through many highs and lows. We have mourned together as we have experienced loss in many forms, and rejoiced at triumphs and answered prayers. We have journeyed to other states and countries, and cried on each others' couches. We've shared countless laughs and cups of coffee. We've challenged each other to grow, and shown up in the darkest of hours.

I will always thank God for bringing me to Iowa and giving me the family I found here. I wouldn't be who I am today without each person who became a brother or sister, grandparent, or child. And though God may be leading me elsewhere, I will carry my Iowa family in my heart, wherever the road may lead.

Today: A Message to the Church

It’s no surprise that our world is broken, it has been for a very long time. Injustice, racism, hatred, and violence, are nothing new. Humanity has done a great job of hurting itself for centuries. But in these more recent days, the blatant hatred and discord has made this reality even more obvious. I have witnessed more and more people coming forward to speak out against the wrongs, to share their experiences. And while each testimony of experienced racism, hatred, and violence sickens and pains me, I am thankful for those who are willing to raise their voices against the wrong. Oh how this world needs an antidote to itself!

The good news is that we have one, and it is more than time for the Church to rise up and share it! It is time for us to be more vocal than we have been in recent generations, to speak truth, not softly in our pulpits and homes, but loudly in the streets. Because the truth is, there will be other loud voices, speaking hatred and discord, speaking evil to our world. But we must ring out louder, with actions and words of truth and love.

Church, now is not the time to be silent. Now is not the time to let others do the work for us. Now is not the time to appeal to the masses, to bow to popular culture and the whims of the world. Now is the time for Christ to be proclaimed in word and in deed to the watching world that is so desperate for the undiluted Gospel. These are the days that we have been preparing for every time we sat through a sermon, memorized a verse, or practiced our Gospel methods. The time is now.

I implore you, if you claim to follow Jesus, if you call yourself a Christian, do not remain silent. When you see injustice, fight it. When you witness hate, confront it with Him who calls Himself Love. When you hear lies, speak the Truth with boldness. Dust off your Bible and read it with earnest. Get on your knees and pray for your communities, this country, and the world. There is only one Antidote for this world, and you know Him by name.

Church, do not turn on yourself, do not tear yourself down. Do not look to condemn those among you who are “too liberal” or “too conservative,” who voted “wrong.” The Church is the bride of Christ and He loves it dearly. Do not think you can spread hatred of the Church and not anger God. In all times and all ways, the Church must pursue unity. It is a body, one that cannot function without all parts working together in harmony. We must fight for unity.

Church, you are the hands and feet of Jesus. You do not exist to sit comfortably in your pew with your coffee and a side of condescension. You do not exist to stay in a bubble with those whose views align with yours. And above all, you do not exist to live a safe and prosperous life. In this world, you will have trials. But you are called to face the trials, to make disciples, to stand apart, and to do the will of the Father. I cannot wait to see what God does through willing and available hearts.

A Command for Husbands: Looking at Ephesians 5

This year I've been tackling some different topics surrounding faith and relationships. I've had this topic on my mind for even longer and I'm finally getting around to publishing my thoughts on it.

We all know marriage is a common topic within the Church in America, and within in that conversation, the topic of submission. It's a hot-button subject that many churches don't shy away from, and it has the potential to become the focal point when studying Ephesians 5. In my experience, churches sometimes camp on the topic of submission, what it looks like, how to do it, etc. But it's not the only important topic to consider when looking at biblical marriage.

Also in my experience, I've found the lack of dialog on a husband's calling--in the same Ephesians passage--disheartening. I think it's beyond time for leaders in the Christian community to step forward, and truly challenge married men to model the Ephesians 5 husband. It's not enough to simply be "in charge," there is a larger, more encompassing command present. I've also seen young women get a poor concept of biblical marriage as they are left with the command to submit, and not much more.

Married members of the Christian community should be seeking to give an accurate representation of both the roles of wives and  husbands within marriage. The call is not for women to blindly submit and men to tyrannically rule, but for there to be a two-person relationship that paints a broader picture of Christ and the Church. How can we model that if we don't earnestly seek what we are called to?

In an effort to do just that, I'm looking into the instruction of Ephesians 5:22-33, specifically looking at what husbands are called to. Based on the comparison and the position in which husbands are placed, I believe they have the greatest responsibility within marriage, and that is to model Christ. I will, for the sake of study, not ignore instruction for wives.

The Breakdown

Right away, this passage starts off with submission (v.22), but it is not devoid of a reason. Submission is a natural response to the husband's role, which is to mirror Christ's headship of the church. (v. 23) Wives are called to submit to their own  husband (not all  husbands/men), as to the Lord, because of the husband's role and position in marriage. Husbands are called to be a living picture  of Christ's headship over the church and His role as Savior of the body  (i.e., the church at large). (v. 23)

Immediately there is a picture being painted--God has intended for the husband-wife relationship to mirror that of Christ and the church. Marriage in and of itself is a God-ordained symbolism. Within that picture, there are distinctly defined roles. Just as the church submits to Christ, so wives are called to embody that by submitting to their husbands. (v. 24) The next six verses go on to contain instruction strictly for husbands.

Husbands are called to love their wives (v. 25a), and before you think that is a simple, easy calling, the rest of the verse explains what that love is to resemble. Husbands are to love their wives as Christ loved the church and gave Himself up for her. (v. 25b) In other words, to love their wives, husbands are instructed to lay down their lives. Christ died for us, the church, to make us holy, cleansed, so that we could be presented to Him in splendor, holy and blameless. (vs. 26-27) His sacrifice is life-giving and selfless, with a goal of reconciliation to bring us close to Him. This is the type of sacrifice husbands are called to, to love is to give of oneself as Christ gave of Himself. He is the very definition of love. (1 John 4:8)

Ephesians 5:28 goes on to detail another aspect of the Christ-like love husbands are to emulate, loving their wives as they love themselves. Just as a man would provide and care for himself, so he must provide and care for his wife. (v. 29a) Again, this is to be a picture of Christ's provision and care for the church, because we, as the church, are members of His body. (v. 29b-30) And if you look at Christ's example, He gave up His literal, physical body on the cross, so He took it a step further  and valued the church over His own life. (John 19:16-30)

The passage wraps up by discussing how the husband-wife relationship is set apart and unique. A husband is called to leave his parents and be united to his wife in a profound mystery, mirroring Christ and the church. (vs.31-32) In that we see that a husband's responsibility is to his wife, not his parents, or extended family, or others. His primary role is to love his wife, and she is called to respect him. (v. 33)

The Response

I think a lot of women get hung up on this passage right out of the gate. It begins with wives and submission, and if you stop there, it can seem frustrating and one-sided. But you have to read the entire passage to find what is paired with that calling. With the call for wives to submit is the call for husbands to live like Jesus, a huge and challenging command that husbands cannot take lightly.

Before I go any father, I want to affirm that, unfortunately, not all husbands model Christ in their marriages. A husband is not automatically Christ-like just by getting married or by being male. Nor is a husband godly in his words and behavior at all times. Because of sin, men and women are fallen, sinful, unable to do good on their own, which is why we need Jesus all the time.

To be able to live like Jesus, we must be in constant pursuit  of Jesus. It doesn't come naturally, it's not easy, and honestly, it's not always fun. But it is the best, most rewarding, most fulfilling  way any human being can live. (Please know: If your husband, or any man for that matter, is treating you poorly--physically or emotionally--you are not  called to be a doormat and accept abuse. Please tell someone whom you trust, who can help you, and give you godly advice and council.)

The challenge for husbands is to singularly be in pursuit of Christ-likeness. Only through seeking Jesus--to know Him and become like Him--can a husband honor his God-given mandate within marriage. That mandate is, as stated in Ephesians 5:25-32, to love his wife as Jesus loved the church. To get a full grasp of that, I encourage you, read through the Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) and study who Jesus was, how He lived, and what He did to bring people to Himself. Really the entire Bible will point you to Christ, but the Gospels are a great place to start.

The Results

If husbands truly seek Christ-likeness and strive to emulate Him within their marriages, I believe they will begin to see certain, specific results.

• Denial of self. Jesus said in Mark 10:45, "For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life—a ransom for many." Jesus' very mission was to give up Himself. To be like Christ is to deny your selfish desires, to put the needs of others before your own. Within marriage, this manifests itself when a husband looks to care for the needs of his wife over his wants, desires and needs. To be truly Christ-like in marriage, a man cannot be selfish.
  
• Elevation of others. When you spend less time concerned with your own needs and more time serving others, you begin to elevate others. You see their value and worth and your actions help to underscore that value. In the marriage relationship, the husband elevates his wife to a place of honor and esteem. This is an equalizing position, one where a wife is highly valued, both for who she is and what she does. (See Proverbs 31:10-31 for an example of a man honoring his wife.)
  
• Strengthening of the family and the church. A relationship that exemplifies that of Christ and the Church will have a profound impact on both the family and the church body. A husband and wife who are striving after Christ together will set an unmistakable example of a godly marriage for their family and their church. This example can help guide others in marriage and in ministry by demonstrating a singular focus on Christ and His calling.

I also believe that if a husband is truly striving after Christ-likeness, submission becomes not merely a requirement but a joy. It becomes a natural response to the love and sacrifice of a godly husband. (For more on the topic of submission itself, check out this blog post.) And what is better than mutually encouraging each other toward a life, a marriage, that honors the Lord above all?

Dear Future Moody Student: An Open Letter

To be totally honest, this letter is more to my brother than anyone else. But I like to think that anyone heading off to Moody, or a Christian college in general, could find something of truth in these words. I hope I can pass on a bit of advice that, maybe in the good and hard moments alike, will stay with you.

To Michael (and other incoming Moodies),

Part of me is questioning why I'm even writing this. If I were honest, I'm not sure that 18-year-old college-bound me would've paid much attention. My head was in the clouds--I was just excited to be striking out on my own, to see what I would become and what I would do. At this point in life, you feel limitless. You can become anything, go anywhere, do anything. The world is at your feet.

But eventually, in four short years you will (hopefully) be an alum, like me, with a real-world job, real-world experiences, and real-world problems. You'll have wisdom and advice that you'll want to share with those who follow, and you'll hope that they will listen. Because life is fast--it's gone before you know what it has been. And you'll have the rest of your life to think about all the things you wish you had (and hadn't) done as an 18-year-old college student.

So this is my advice, the few things that I think are most important to pass on from my experience at the school that D.L. Moody founded.

1. People matter. You might forget this as you're sitting in new student orientation and they're telling you how much time you should devote to homework. Or when you're thinking about dating someone for completely selfish reasons. Or when you know and understand more about theology than most of your classmates. Or when someone is crying in your room but you're late for class, or dinner.

What they don't tell you, as a bright-eyed incoming freshman, is that ultimately, all you take with you are human souls. You get a degree for a few years, maybe 80-some if you're lucky. Maybe it helps you land your dream ministry job, or maybe it hinders you from securing the "secular" job you need to pay the bills. Either way, it's a piece of paper and you can't take it with you when you go. When "the roll is called up yonder" all you'll be seeing are people. And trust me, you want to see faces that you've cared for, not faces that you've walked over.

My advice is to make the most of your relationships and interactions. Remember that everyone is an image-bearer of God and immensely valuable, just like you. The people you'll meet, they don't care about how impressive your internship was, or how much you know about Calvin, or what your GPA was this semester. They will just long to be loved--Moody student and non-student alike--and you will have the opportunity to love them well. Don't miss out on that opportunity.

2. Keep your priorities straight. It will be really easy to get distracted, so set your priorities now and stick to them. There will be a million different groups and clubs and activities for you to join the moment your feet hit the plaza. And some of them might be really great things that you should definitely try, but not at the expense of what's most important.

I would rank priorities in this order: God, people, everything else. And within everything else will fall your classes, homework, a job or two, PCM, sports, clubs, the list goes on. And the thing is, lots of times at school, the priorities get shuffled to everything else, people, and then God.

Because at Moody, God is in so much of what you're doing every day, it can be easy to forget about making Him your top priority. You talk about Him in class, in chapel, in the dinning hall, in your dorm room, in your 20-page paper, at church, on the phone. And you read the Bible just as much. Eventually it will feel like the Bible is a textbook and God has enough of your time, He doesn't need any more. The struggle is in keeping Him the main thing all the time, and not losing your personal time with Him.

Fight for God to be a priority in your life, even when you don't feel like it. Even when you're jaded by Christian legalism, hypocrites, gossips, and unkind professors. Even when you're tired and just want to sleep. Even when you're not sure if this whole Christianity thing is for you. Even when everyone else is doing it, whatever it is. Don't lose your dedication to the Lord, He's what matters most.

3. Do your best. I'll be totally honest, some classes you'll be tempted to skate through. You'll want to take as many short cuts as you can find, especially when you're taking 18 credit hours, working 30, and sleeping four. But don't forget why you came to Moody. You're there to become a minister of the gospel, well-equipped and wise. You're there to be trained, to grow, to learn as much as you can and use it in the future. You're there to be sharpened and shaped into a better version of yourself.

Remember that when you want to cut corners, to sign off on the reading but not actually do it, to take a power nap in class. You might be able to pass, but it won't help you in the future. The less you dedicate now, the less you'll have to give later when you're relying on your training to do your job. And at that point, you'll wish you hadn't been texting through class, playing kitten cannon on your laptop, or sleeping instead of studying.

With that said, you can't do it all. You will have to let some things go. You won't be able to go to every party, every downtown adventure, every on-campus event. And trust me, in the long run, those are the things you'll want to sacrifice over your papers, projects, and grades. You don't have to be a hermit, but you'll have to know how to prioritize and when to say no.

4. Have fun. So yes, there are lots of really important things like grades and jobs, but you also need to have fun. Making time for friends, activities, and exercise will help keep you sane. My biggest stress reliever in college was going to the gym. Sometimes it would be playing basketball, other days I would just run as fast and as far as I could. I needed that on the days when I felt frustrated and out of control (aka, most days).

My other stress reliever was having a close friend or two who knew me really well and loved just the same. I made a lot of mistakes, before college and in college. Having a best friend to be around helped me to open up and be honest about myself and my feelings. And let me tell you, you go through a lot of different emotions and situations in college. Having someone to help navigate that means the world.

Life is really short and you've only got one shot at it. Make it a good shot. You may fail sometimes--on tests or in relationships or at jobs--but that doesn't mean life is over. All it means is that you have a chance to learn something, to grow, and to become great.

I hope you love your time at Moody and that it's everything you hope for and more.

- Elise

How I Feel About Turning 30

Have you ever had a moment when you finally understood that life was going to change, whether you were ready for it or not? I first had this moment when I realized the 90s weren't going to last past 1999. Somewhere in my kid brain I thought it would be the 90s forever. Then when I realized my senior year would fall in the 2000s, my mind was blown in a slightly disappointed way. I wanted to be a "class of 90-something" not the class of 2004.

I feel like life is made up of many of these little moments where we have to adjust our perspective. High school won't last forever and neither will college. These huge life milestones sometimes feel insurmountable, but before you know it, they're over. That's how I felt about my twenties until this past year. They were a season I spent a decade in, they were my life, I guess some part of me didn't expect them to end.

Yet here I am, 29 and on the home stretch to 30. Soon this season I've been existing in for so long will just be a memory, like high school and college. And as scary as it is to move on, I feel like I'm finally ready. I guess that's what this past year was for. It led me gently into a transition I couldn't get away from. I thought I'd be fearing my 30s and all that they represent, but it turns out I'm excited.

When I look at my 20s, I see messiness. I see a lot of striving to become something. I see many mistakes. I see disorder and my attempts to control my life (which failed miserably). I see the missteps I've taken, the frivolous things I've pursued. I see the people I should never have run after, and the ones who changed my life. I see some triumphs sprinkled with failure and doubt. I see loss, tears, and temptations. Much of my 20s were troubling times.

And while there were definite highs, successes, and joys, I am happy to leave the tumult of my 20s behind. They were a season of painful growth, like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. As I look to 30 and see a fresh start in a new life season, I see opportunities to grow from the person I was to the person I hope to be.

I want my 30s to be a season marked by a constant movement toward holiness. I want to step farther away from myself and into a life devoted to godliness and Christ-likeness. I want to see less of me and more of Him. I don't want to see the reckless selfishness of my 20s. I don't want to constantly relive the past in an attempt to "stay young." I want to move forward boldly into whatever God may hold. And I know He holds much that I have yet to discover.

I have a lot of hopes and dreams for my 30s. I'm letting them all go for the dream of pursuing God harder than I ever have before. Rather than looking to my goals and being sidetracked by selfish hopes, I'm looking to what God has for me. I know that will take constant refocusing, because if I didn't learn anything else from my 20s, I learned it's easy to become derailed by your own desires. I don't want my 30s to become marked by the same mistake.

Whatever life phase you find yourself in, I want you to know, it's not too late. You're never too old, too young, too lost, or too far-gone to pursue a life with Christ. All it takes is a small step--choosing Him over everything else--to transform your life. And the best part is, you won't be alone. He will always be with you, and so will those who have also committed their lives to Him. Let's go on this crazy journey together and see where He will take us.

Lessons from the Crash Site

I'm the type of person that usually sees the worst in myself. I see all the times I get things wrong. I see my mistakes, my missteps, my unholiness. I think a lot of this comes from the way I grew up viewing God--that He was disappointed in me regularly because of my actions. Sometimes it's hard for me to see myself in any other way than where I've failed.

I'm thankful for the moments when I can see that God is working in me. Those are the moments I know I'm not seeing myself for myself. I'm seeing Him at work in me, changing my heart, and for that I am hugely grateful. I got a little glimmer of that this weekend when we got into a literal fender bender in the Costco parking lot.

There was an older gentleman who backed his SUV into ours. His was fine, but ours got a nice big dent in the front bumper. As soon as it happened I had this thought of, it's happened, our nice car has been damaged. And I waited for some feelings of anxiety or disappointment to set in.

I used to be a massively appearance-based person. I weighed most of my choices by how I would look, including in the areas of dating relationships, clothes shopping, and activities I would get involved in. It all came down to how I appeared. I thought if I surrounded myself with people and things that looked a certain way, I would subsequently appear how I longed to appear to others.

I wanted to look like I had it all together, like I drew in attractive people and had enviable relationships. I wanted it to look like I had nice things, a sense of style, maybe even some extra money. It's sad how my identity became wrapped up in something so silly as how I appeared to other people, never mind who I was underneath it all.

Thanks to the work of God in my life, I've begun to grow in that area. I've been learning about humility, thankfulness, and identity. But I fully expected--when I looked at the crunched metal of the car I drove regularly--to feel all those feelings of panic and frustration over marred appearances. But it was totally opposite, I didn't care at all. No one was hurt, it was just a thing. It was such a freeing feeling to not let the appearance of something affect me.

I don't know if God let the accident happen for that purpose or for multiple purposes. But I am thankful for the opportunity to see change in myself. I am thankful to continue learning lessons of value and worth, and what really matters. I'm thankful that there's hope to be found in the heart-changing work of Jesus. I'm thankful that He's not done with me yet.