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

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.

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.

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.

A Real Love Story: When Life is Hard

The #RealLoveStory series is not done! I'm shifting away from discussing relationships specifically and talking about personal details that will affect relationships.

If I know nothing else about life, I know this: it is hard. It doesn't matter what stage you find yourself in, there will always be hardships, there will always be pain. And when there is an unknown to why bad things are happening, it can make you want to give up.

I've never been a quitter, it's just not in my nature. The first time I thought about suicide was in high school. I didn't think there was any end to the pain that I felt. At that age I was dealing with more things than the majority of people realized. Inside, I was depressed and confused, I felt invisible, unlovable, like I was drowning and couldn't come up for air. Outside, the smile and sass hid the knowledge that I was ugly, geeky, and dealing with abuse from classmates. I contemplated ways to end it. Who could live like this?

The first time I felt real, complete rejection from someone I thought I loved was in college. It was one of those rejections that came without an explanation. The attention and relationship just stopped in silence. It felt like searing pain to see this person, and to walk away without knowing what was wrong. Was it me? It must've been me. I wasn't pretty enough or good enough, and he didn't want me.

The first time I felt truly, completely alone, was after I moved to Colorado. I got dumped two months into moving there and I had no one. No family to fall back on, no one to help take care of me. The pain of losing a relationship I thought would lead to marriage was compounded by the vastness of my separation from all that was familiar. Like the mountains I passed every day, I felt like I was alone in a wilderness of confusion and pain. I looked for ways to numb it because who cared what happened to me now?

Life has been a series of painful pricks, like a needle repeatedly pressed into my skin. Whether it was betrayal by members of the church body, bad choices that led to worse decisions, rejection by those closest, or the feeling of being unacceptable, there has always been pain. And the reality of life tells me, there always will be pain. But somehow, I'm still here. It's a choice to live life in the midst of hurt, it's a choice to go on when you want to quit, it's a choice to overcome.

I don't like to let a bad experience go without getting something good out of it. One little shred of goodness, that's all it takes. I have to learn from it, I have to grow. I have to find the redemption. Maybe it takes years, but I am determined to always make the bad produce something good. These are some of the things I've learned from pain.

Don't give up.

Life can seem really bad at any given time. Friends and family will fail you, your spouse will fail you, and sometimes, you will fail. Life may feel like a dark pit you can't climb out of and it may seem like it's been years since you've seen the light of day. There will be seasons of desolation, of depression, of loneliness, of pain. Unfortunately, that is the nature of life and humanity.

But no matter how hard it gets, I'm telling you now, in writing: you are never  allowed to give up. It's easy to just see what's here, what's now. We can only see this moment and what is past, but we can't see what's ahead. There may be even harder times ahead, it's true, but there will also be things that you won't want to miss, that you shouldn't  miss. It's true that this world needs you, the people in your life need you. You have something to give, to contribute, and a story to tell.

I know it's not easy, but resolve in the good moments to fight through the bad. Hold onto that resolve. Know that you are strong, you will overcome. Life will change, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse, but you can do it. Find a small group of close friends to come alongside you in all that life brings. Friends who will remind you of your worth and value, their love, and that life will get better again.

God uses broken people. 

I think a lot of times we put pressure on ourselves to get things right, to look like we have it all together. There's this unspoken belief that we're "better" if we have a handle on our lives, if we project an image of perfection, and if we don't have any big-time screw ups. But if you dive below the surface, you'll see that's not really true. The truth is that broken people can be used for big things.

There are a lot of really screwed up people in the Bible. They're some of the most prominent characters--King David slept with another man's wife, then had him killed; Abraham passed off his wife as his sister; Rahab was a prostitute in a pagan city; King Solomon was a sex addict in love with many women. I think these individuals show us that God has used and continues to use imperfect people. David was called a man after God's own heart. God made a covenant with Abraham, and Abraham's belief in God was credited as righteousness. Rahab became one of five women included in Jesus' genealogy. Solomon asked God for wisdom and was given insight greater than all of Egypt. These people weren't perfect, but that didn't negate them from great things in service to God.

Don't let your past mistakes keep you benched. The best thing you can do is learn from them and let that knowledge equip you to help others and to live a holy life. God can use you, no matter where you've been, no matter what you've done, and no matter what's been done to you. You're never too "far gone" or too broken to do great things.

Understanding can come with time.

Sometimes we will never know why a bad thing happened. I don't have specific answers for why certain things happened to me in my past. In some cases I've just accepted that the sinful choices of others led to them inflicting pain on me or trying to use me. That's the nature of having freewill and the ability to choose wrong. It's painful, but I'm thankful not to be a robot.

In other cases, I've been able to see some good come from the bad or at least reach an understanding for why something happened. Sometimes it's the ability to connect with and encourage another person, or the opportunity to see that it was a good thing a relationship ended. It comes back to that decision to work hard to find the good in the bad. If I make a mistake, I want to learn from it. If something happens to me, I want to find even a tiny spec of good that could come from it. It's a choice to not let the bad things win.

Don't expect to find good or understanding right away. Don't ignore the pain or try to avoid being sad. But don't stay in sadness forever. Let people in who can help you and who need you. Look for something you can learn. Begin to search for the good that you can take back from the bad. Maybe some things will never make sense, but don't let that stop you from making the world a better place for someone else.

Thanks for checking out the #RealLoveStory series. If you have an idea for a topic, question or comment, please leave a comment below or email me.