A Reflection on Leading Worship~

Over the course of the past week or so, I’ve been pondering my ministry outlet at our church.  I’m not really sure what the trigger was, if something happened in particular that set my mind to thinking on this.  Whatever the reason, I realized that I’ve never sat down and written out the “why” behind what I do. 

For many years, and in each of the local churches where I’ve been, my primary ministry has been leading worship.  Whether I’ve been one of several in the church choir, part of a smaller ensemble, or behind a microphone, this has been my main outlet more than anything else.  And I honestly don’t think it’s because I have some unmatched, exquisite talent.  There are many men and women leading worship in other churches out there who are far more talented and far more able.  I listen to my favorite well-known worship leaders, women I went to college with, many people who have the incredible gift of singing or even composing.  Or they have the even greater gift of singing and guitar and piano and composing and…yes, there are those out there who are far more capable than I am. 
 
The most challenging season regarding my place in worship ministry was during the college years.  My husband and I were at a vibrant church, one busting at the seams and full of individuals eager to get involved in an array of ministries.  I was surrounded by men and women who were truly gifted in the area of music, and their skills and passion were readily put to use in the corporate or small group setting.  I spent many a semester during that season wondering where I fit in all this flurry of talent.  I was surrounded by people who were being handed opportunities to serve, and I came to a place where I wondered what was wrong with me.  Was I just not that good?  Was I not charismatic enough?  Could they not see this deep passion, this fire in me, for leading?  And then…the one time I was asked to help lead at our citywide college Bible study, I was sick.  Something must have been wrong with me.  So I shied away a bit, sang here and there on occasion with the ensemble that was part of our church’s larger worship team, worked out some of my jealousy issues, and tried embracing the reality that maybe this just wasn’t my area.  But like anything for which a person holds deep passion, like any gift or desire that really does burn like a fire in the bones, my passion for leading worship did not end in complete death.  It merely hibernated for a few years.  Once we moved to Louisville and I became involved at the church prior to the one we are at now, I couldn’t stifle the desire any longer.  As soon as we joined as members of that local body, I approached the head worship leader and became involved with the team shortly thereafter.  The same occurred at the church we are at now, and I know down in the very core of who I am that this truly is my primary means of ministry to our local church.  There are other areas of ministry to which I am drawn –womens’ ministry, encouraging young women –but I know that this gift I hold is from the Lord and one of the central ways He has so undeservedly called me to serve.

So after that as an introduction of sorts…why?  Why lead at church on Sunday mornings rather than singing elsewhere (i.e. sticking with my original college plan which involved a music degree)?  Why lead on the stage rather than in some other avenue of ministry?  Our worship pastor reminds me that if I need a breather at any time from singing Sunday in and Sunday out, I just say the word and he will promptly recruit someone to fill in.  There have been occasions when my heart has needed the rest.  Those times have done my soul good, sitting amongst the congregation and letting the music and voices wash over.  I know that there may come a day when I am compelled to serve elsewhere, just as there have been those seasons in the past.  But with few exceptions, I’m on the stage to practice every Sunday morning at 8:45 (thereabouts…I’ve never claimed to be the most punctual of women.)  Singing can be likened to breathing for me.  Not only am I moved and encouraged by the unique beauty music holds, but part of my very identity is singing.  I think this is a good and right way to view how the Lord has knit each of us together, made in such ways that we possess unique skill sets and giftings.  (Aside: For those who have been saved by Christ and are now children of God, He didn’t leave anyone out.   He has entrusted all of His children with particular gifts.)  Our identity in Christ includes such gifts for the joy and encouragement of others, and to ultimately glorify Him.  This is singing for me.  More specifically, this is leading the congregation in corporate worship.

I also love the view.  What an amazing joy it is to look out on the congregation every Sunday morning.  Not only do I derive deep joy from beholding the church lifting their voices to God, but I’m also overcome with a great sense of humility.  How humbling it is to witness the woman with tears in her eyes, crying, “Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, ‘It is well, it is well with my soul.’”  Or beholding the man with his arms outstretched, declaring, “You looked upon my helpless state and led me to the cross.  And I beheld God’s love displayed, You suffered in my place.  You bore the wrath reserved for me, now all I know is grace!”  I have no other words to describe the experience but deeply humbling and joyous.  I love hearing the body of believers sing so loudly we can hear them over the sound system.  I love catching a glimpse of the Church rightly worshipping God in an otherwise broken world.  I love seeing the expressions on the faces of those I know are in times of joy or sorrow, declaring the truths in the music even in seasons when those truths are hard to utter.  I consider it such an undeserved blessing to stand behind that microphone every Sunday morning.

~~~

“A thousand men could not compose a worthy song to bring, yet Your love is the melody our hearts can’t help but sing.”

 

 

The Bittersweet Side of Life in Ministry

Two of the dearest women in my life are best friends.  They are best friends who met...sixteen years ago?  They also happen to live on opposite sides of the globe from each other, and have been for more than two years now~

They always knew the day would come, the inevitable day when the Lord would pull them away from the comfort of proximity as He called their families to ministry elsewhere.  I was influenced by the kindred nature of their friendship, and moreso when they made that friendship work even separated by miles.  I recall them both telling me on different occasions that this reality of their relationship is one of the bittersweet sides of life in ministry.  Now more than ever, and more than I could have anticipated at such a young and inexperienced age, I'm feeling the weight of their influence and encouragement.  Two things happen as the years go by; I savor the relationships the Lord has given so much more, and experience more and more the tension that accompanies making dear friends during an inevitably short season.

We are getting ready to part ways with a couple whom we have grown to enjoy and love dearly in a very short amount of time.  They came to Louisville a few years ago to attend seminary just as the rest of us did, and welcomed their precious twin girls into the world just six months ago.  He has been interviewing for music ministry positions for some time, and the Lord has now provided that opportunity for them to move and serve at a church in Georgia.  We are ecstatic for them, excited that the Lord has opened this door much sooner than many who go through the seminary season.  There will be a hole where they have gladly served in our church body here these past few years.  While I am personally blessed by each person who serves each week with me on the worship team, he stands out in both passion and skill (and I know the others would agree!). 

And his wife, my friend...how I will miss her.  We laugh, we text, we share burdens, we laugh some more, we exchange recipes, we love on her baby girls, we ask what the other might need when heading to the grocery store, we veg on the couch, we have a treasured and rare kinship that doesn't happen everyday.  I've become so accustomed to her being just a text or 5-minute drive away.  The proximity has become a comfort, so I can't help but feel a bit sad that she won't be nearby in a few short weeks.  I am encouraged by her trust both in the Lord and in her husband as they turn the page to this new chapter.  It has been such a joy to my heart to pray with her, and for me and my husband to walk with them during the steps of this process.

Bittersweet indeed.  While my eyes were welling up the other day upon hearing the official news of their move, my husband put his hand on my arm and reminded me of the gift of friendship we have shared even if the season has been short.  I'm thankful that we have made the most of the season, even when we knew their move to Georgia was just short of definite.  That is a big takeaway for me from this time we have shared with them; make the most of the time you do have.  Don't neglect the fellowship even if you know the time is limited.  Make the most of the time because you never know just how much the Lord might bless you in a very direct and personal way.  That is my testimony from the bond that has been cultivated between me and my friend.  She is beautiful through and through, so open to all levels of conversation, and I would have never known these things about her had I not taken the opportunity to do so.  I am blessed by her from here on out, no matter where years or distance take us!

We meet to part but part to meet, when earthly labors are complete...

("Soldiers of Christ in Truth Arrayed," Southern Seminary Hymn)

Something brought you to my mind today,

I thought about the funny ways you make me laugh,

And yet I feel like it's okay to cry with you

Something about just being with you,

When I leave I feel like I've been near God,

And that's the way it ought to be....

Oh you have blessed my life, more than you'll ever know

(Christy Nockels)

On Turning 30~

~My mother-in-law informed me that 30 is when she started celebrating the anniversary of her 29th birthday.
~One friend has promised that I will thoroughly love my 30s much more than I did my 20s.
~My brother (approaching 35) sarcastically asked me when he called if I could hear him (before we laughed at ourselves both yawning before 9:00pm).
~One of my dearest of friends told me she just can't wait to reach 30, that there's something exciting to her about finally arriving at that age...

My own summation thus far? I just feel...loved.

April 16th began with a half-day at work followed by an afternoon at home. The first thing I did upon arriving home at lunchtime was change clothes and sit on the couch. That's all. Just sat on the couch in my quiet livingroom, and loved on my dogs. My husband was out running some final birthday errands, so I savored the silence for a good hour before deciding to get up and move on with the rest of the day. I was then treated to an afternoon coffee date, roses, a gift card for a massage, and steak dinner prepared by my handsome man. And no dinner is complete without ice cream cake, the years-old tradition in our house. My husband loved on me all day long, giving things that he knew would make me smile, and making a meal that he knew would make my heart especially happy. He knows me well enough to know that some of the most simple of gifts, such as sweet little roses, speak the loudest to my heart. He reminded me throughout the day that I am loved.

On the evening following my birthday, I came home as usual and began the process of unwinding and getting dinner ready. My husband was pressuring me to get out of the house to run an errand. Completely annoyed (visibly annoyed...I apologized later), I put dinner fixin's back in the fridge, and hopped in the car with him. We apparently had to run this errand by a certain time before a store closed, so we reverted to drive-thru for dinner on the way. After our whirlwind dinner and heading to the store, he suddenly took a quick turn through a neighborhood and down the street of some of our good friends... All the way down the street, I couldn't figure out why on earth we'd be taking such a random detour. As we pulled closer to our friends' house, I started seeing familiar cars parked, and my husband finally admits with an evil grin, "Okay, so I totally lied to you about where we were going". Upon opening the door to our friends' house, I was greeted by 13 beautiful friends singing "Happy Birthday." The rest of the evening was filled with yummy food, sweet conversation, lots of laughs, and them going out of their way to ensure that I felt...yes, loved! The highlight of the evening was the exquisite tulip bouquet they presented to me. Tied to the flowers were 30 pieces of paper where they had written down things about me: things they love, are encouraged by, make them laugh, etc. I was relieved when they assured me I didn't have to read them aloud myself. They, instead, took turns going around the room reading all of these sweet notes to me. Unforgettable.Humbling.Lump in my throat.Honored.Blessed. Loved indeed.

There are so many things I don't know right now, so many things my husband and I are grappling with in regard to decisions, the future, our daily emotions, so I grasp for any assurances whether big or small. Turning 30 has most certainly not lessened the impact of these varying feelings. So in the midst of this uncertain, confusing context, I choose to take hold of the truth that I am loved. My husband loves me in spite of knowing me and all of my failings. My family loves me, history and all. My friends love me, close and distant, acquaintance and kindred. I am loved by a Father who takes delight in reminding me of this truth. No matter our context, no matter the season or trials therein, no matter when or how we have been hurt or disappointed, His love is great and His love is deep. He is glad to display that love through the presence of dear brothers and sisters, those He surrounds us with to extend grace and encouragement. My husband is so often the direct means of God displaying such love, and on occasions such as my birthday, the display of this love moved me to praise. Oh, how sweet a gift that is, the gift of loved ones. Such a reminder of the love undeserved, unmerited, and unconditional.

"Ain't You Tired, Ms. Hilly?"

If you haven't seen the widely-acclaimed film "The Help," you should. For us Southern women, it's a reminder of how things were and how far we have come (or so we hope). For those who weren't blessed to grow up in the South, it provides a good dose of perspective on the history of a culture so foreign to them. I have to remind myself often that only one or two generations above me still grapple with the racial tensions captured so well in this endearing movie.
The intent of this post isn't a movie review, but there are certain scenes in "The Help" that gripped me, one of which is towards the end. As "Aibileen" is leaving the family's home from which she has just been let go, she comes face-to-face with the woman who has been intent on making life miserable for the working class women in town. Flustered from the sudden events that led to her being dismissed, "Aibileen" boldly walks right up to this woman and says, "Ain't you tired, Ms. Hilly?" She then exits through the front door, full of emotion somewhere between hurt and relief, and the movie begins to wrap up from there.

Now...here goes the rabbit trail from that brief scene I've been reflecting on in recent weeks...

I lead a rather uneventful life. (Random flash to one of my all-time favorite movies: "I lead a small life. Valuable, but small.") I have a solid place of employment with a pretty typical Monday-Friday schedule. I'm in my car at 7:30 each morning, coffee in hand, listening to the AM talk radio station, holding my breath as I approach each traffic signal in the hope that I can make it through before it turns red. I have a daily to-do list, a computer screen I'm in front of so often I've considered giving it a name, and all of this in the context of a fantastic company for whom I am so fortunate to work. I come home around 5:00 each evening to an incredibly grateful and gracious husband, as well as two lovable dogs who think I hung the moon. We're usually eating dinner around 7:00, and by 10:30 I'm nodding off on the couch. All in all uneventful, but no less valuable and I should be no less thankful for every good gift.

So then why do I still have those occasional days along the way? Those evenings after washing the long day off my face when I look in the mirror and ask, "Aren't you tired?" I've had countless restless-night conversations with my husband on why certain things creep in and try to rob me of contentment and rest. He sees this in me more often than I'd like to admit, and is so good to bring it up when he sees the weariness starting to take over. So...why? Why when there is so much to be thankful for, when there are so many opportunities for me to embrace life and the good gifts therein, am I still just...tired?
I'm tired because I'm wrestling.
I'm tired because there are days when the Joy is threatened by the temptation to depart from who I was made to be.
I'm tired because I have formed for myself an image of the "ideal" working woman who keeps an immaculate house, cooks up exquisite meals each night for her husband, and gives her husband no reason for frustration or argument...
This image slowly developed over time, beginning in my early years of seminary, and taking on a more clear form once I was married. Rather than cultivating the gifts I know I've been given, those traits that make me me, my gaze and attention began drifting to who I wasn't. My tendency towards people-pleasing is all wrapped up in striving for this false and imagined identity. The constant striving to look and be a certain way eventually zaps my motivation, and there I am - tired and grasping for some purpose in all the work I'm doing. I want the striving (and the image that striving is bent towards) to determine my value rather than embracing the truth that God has made me in a very particular, purposeful way with the desires and gifts He's imparted.

By God's grace, I'm learning to recognize the triggers. The hardest part was finally identifying the real issue and acknowledging the fact that I had built up this image over time. Once I came to a place of acknowledging the truth, only then was I able to fully see the implications and toll it was taking. I was finally able to answer the question of why I'm so often tired from what is a relatively uneventful life.

If you're a woman whose identity is in Christ, do not be deceived. Crafting an image isn't limited to those who strive for satisfaction apart from Him; it just looks different. I would argue that it's actually easier to mask such images behind the facade of spiritual language and effort. To my fellow sisters in the body of Christ -
Cease striving and thank your Maker!

“Jesus Christ is Lord over my heart, and He is Lord over my hands, and He is Lord over what I do with these hands, and He is Lord over what I say in my heart while I’m doing it. In submitting to the lordship of Christ, then, I do not treat washing dishes as wasting time I could be spending doing something ‘meaningful,’ but rather as a service to those who eat in my home, as a service to those who would have to wash dishes if I did not, and as an offering of thanksgiving to God that I have food to eat, dishes to eat it on, and running water inside my home to clean with.” (J.Wilson)

Four Years with My Groom~

"I say I love you, I say I need you

I try so many ways to say how my heart beats for you

I say I'm always thinking about you

There's no way I'd want to face this life without you

And even though these words come from deep inside me

There's so much more I don't have the words to say

~

'Cause what I really want to say

Is what the sun would say to the sky

For giving it a place to come alive

But my words get in the way

Of what I really want to say

Oh, what I really want to say

~

I know that sometimes my words can be as hard as stone

And sometimes my words have left you feeling so alone

So please forgive me and hear the words I'm saying now

I will spend my whole life looking for a way somehow

To let you know just how precious you are to me

I'll use the best words I know but I still won't say it all

~

'Cause what I really want to say

Is what the sun would say to the sky

For giving it a place to come alive

But my words get in the way

Of what I really want to say

~

It's like a tale too great to be told

It's something that my heart can only show

I'm gonna take my whole life just to let you know

What I really want to say

Oh, what I really want to say to you

What I really want to say

Oh, what I really want to say"

(Chapman)

11 Lessons from 2011~

I'm wrapping up more than a week of being off from work, of not setting an alarm each morning, and staying in my bathrobe until who knows when. The time has been enjoyable, restful, and much needed. The days have been filled with lots of rest, good food, time with friends and family (my dad was even in town last weekend!), and catching up on some quality reading and crocheting.
With all the extra time afforded me this week, I've thought much about what all has happened over the course of the year. How will I label or define 2011 in the years to come? What has marked this past year, and what do I see when I look back? Do I praise the Lord and see evidence of, "For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope..." (Jer. 29:11)?
As I reflected on these questions, I came up with this "11 from 11" list, a list of lessons learned over the past twelve months:

~

1. I have so much more than I deserve, and so much more than I acknowledge.

2. With each passing year, I am increasingly more aware of the Lord's grace and care for me through my husband.

3. Value the friendships you have; don't force those that simply are not going to happen (or have had their season).

4. The fear of disappointment can be utterly crippling.

5. I am not in control, from the minutest of details to significant, life-altering events.

6. I long for somewhere to call "home," and yet, wherever I am with my husband is home.

7. Opportunities for counseling may be scarce, but my desire has not diminished.

8. Reading books, both fiction and not, is good for the soul.

9. My tendency is to want my 20s over and done with, but the reality of 30 drawing near is a bit overwhelming.

10. When you think you are dependent on the Lord, He reveals to you just how much you are still relying on yourself.

11. 'The Lord is my portion', says my soul, 'therefore I will hope in Him.' (Lamentations 3:24)

~

The Lord is good, the Lord is faithful, the Lord is our Provider and Sustainer. I'm eager for what lies ahead as we close this chapter and turn the page to a new year.

Now it's your turn: what have you learned over the course of 2011?

Favorite Photo(s) Friday ~ The Holidays at Our House

I'm not the only one who gets giddy this time of year ~ The minute that familiar green bin is pulled down from the closet (and believe me, they remember!), and I pull the lid off to start unpacking ornaments and Christmas decor galore, these girls start prancing around with an extra skip in their step. They really are the cutest dogs in the world, aren't they? (As I type, Big Dog is sacked out with half her body under the tree.)

This was the year to finally purchase a new tree! After six years of dreading the pitiful tree I had before, sifting through the color-coded branches and hoping those branches didn't fall off while tediously stringing lights around, it was time to invest in bigger and better. I adore the new tree - pre-lit, pinecones, and snow-tipped branches~

A little tradition we've kept up is purchasing a new ornament each year~

I'm not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way I began hoarding snowmen. Can you blame me? Look at this fun guy!

My dear, cherished Christmas village. The decor in our home is not complete without setting it out, and having it on display always reminds me of family~

Although simple, our Christmas decor always puts a smile on my face and makes my heart happy. "Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays..."

1,000 Gifts~

Is Thanksgiving merely one holiday out of the year...or is thanksgiving an indicator of how we live?

Thus the reason why I have launched into this experiment of keeping a thanksgiving journal.

The select few people who know me well, on an extremely intimate and kindred level, know that my general perspective on life can lean towards being rather glum. While I kid that I'm a "glass half-empty" kinda girl...there's more to that than I am often willing and ready to confront. The fact of the matter is, I can be quite overcome with all that is wrong in the world, all that is wrong in relationships, all the things I think should be in my life yet seem to be missing. The effects of this can be downright paralyzing at times. Just this weekend, I was so overcome and so down that I wasn't even up for attending our small group gathering (if you are reading this and part of our small group, I hope you won't take offense). I have come to know this more and more about myself, and my hope is that this will be an opportunity for emptying myself before God, for a complete shift in focus where I have failed to see His continual work and outpouring of grace in my life.

While in the aforementioned slump last week and into this previous weekend, one of those "kindred-level" friends suggested a book to me. My natural tendency would be to add the title to my ever-growing list of books that I have every intention of reading...someday. But for whatever reason, I got in my car the very next day during lunch, and purchased the book from the nearest bookstore. I won't give away the title just yet as I'm still working through it, taking my time to really reflect on what the author is conveying. I would summarize the premise of the book by something she recently posted on her own blog: "No one receives the peace of God without giving thanks to God." Wow...how often do we emotionally, and in our daily practical living, attempt to switch the order around? How often do I spin my wheels, looking around at the world, striving after peace as if striving after wind, and all the while failing to the acknowledge the One who has given everything--and given gladly and freely?

I know that I am in desperate need of a focus shift, a significant change in perspective, and that kind of transformation can only happen by way of God's grace penetrating the very core of who I am. He has proven faithful time and again, and promises to complete the good work He has begun (Philippians 1:6). As a very practical means of working toward a perspective shift, I have opted to put an exquisite, handmade journal to good use. My youth pastor made the journal for me (and one for my husband as well) as a graduation gift two years ago. Since his wife is the one who recommended the book on thanksgiving in the first place, I thought it rather appropriate to use the journal he made for this purpose. The journal is small enough to carry with me, so that I can have it nearby to pull out at a moment's notice; very practically speaking, it helps to have something easy to tuck away so that it's always nearby.

Seeing as this is the night before the holiday, I thought it an appropriate time to begin my thanksgiving journal (and to finally respond to the conviction that had been weighing on me). To give you a small taste of how both minute and grandiose the notes of thanks can be, my first day's thanks includes gratitude for a roof over my head, two four-legged friends, a sparkly Christmas tree, and eating graham crackers with my husband.

If you are someone who struggles with a perspective like mine, one so often marked by a lack of real gratitude, may this be of encouragement to you for adopting a similar habit. Here's another snippet from the author's blog:

"The life that counts blessings discovers it's yielding more than it seems."

Favorite Photo(s) Friday ~ Nali's 8th Birthday

“Through my relationship with [my dog] I’ve come to see my relationship with God in a new way. At this point, non-dog-lovers may be rolling their eyes. But stay with me a moment. Scripture makes it clear that God’s creation helps explain who God is.… Is it surprising that God would choose to teach me about Himself through a dog? God the Creator chooses to reveal Himself – to show who He is, what He is like – through what He has made. In fact, His choice to teach me about Himself through a dog manifests the specificity of His love for me. He knew exactly how to reach me and did so lovingly.” ~R. McRae

Where I'll Be This Weekend~

Thanks to an anonymous donation by a dear soul at our church, and to my husband who has graciously agreed to part with me for the majority of the weekend, I am pumped to be attending the national conference for the Christian Counseling & Educational Foundation! (And I'm grateful that the conference is being held here in the 'Ville to save the stress of travel and lodging expenses!)

Beginning tomorrow morning, the sessions/topics are as follows:

Friday:

~Making Sense of Complex Problems - David Powlison

~What is Going on Inside? Understanding the Human Experience - Ed Welch

~What's in a Name? Understand Labels and Diagnoses - Mike Emlet

~Psychiatric Disorders in Children - Julie Lowe

~What You Can Do to Help - Ed Welch

Saturday:

~Understanding Depression: Weakness, Willfullness, or Wisdom? - Eric Johnson

~Pastoral Care for Fearful, Needy People - Tim Lane

~Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall: Body Image Distortions - David Powlison & Julie Lowe

Sunday:

~Listening to Prozac? Understand Psychiatric Treatments - Mike Emlet

~The Local Church: A Safe Place to Struggle? - Tim Lane

May I learn much, receiving both insight and encouragement, from men and women who display such godly wisdom. The leaders at the conference are ones committed to teaching, writing, and counseling in their local churches. Now that I have been out of the counseling program for almost two years, not only will it be good to see professors whose classes I took at Southern, but to learn from those whose books and articles I have gleaned so much wisdom from. It will certainly be a jam-packed weekend, but I'm so thrilled to be going!

(Photo courtesy of CCEF)

On the Bedside Table~

Do you have favorite spots in your house? Spots where you sit that evoke certain emotions or tasks? The chair closest to the window where you sip coffee and welcome in the morning sun? The corner of the couch where you read or watch a movie in the evenings, complete with your favorite soft blanket and the dog curled up at your feet? A place designated as your spot for journaling, reflection, reading Scripture? Well, I have such spots in our modest townhome. When you give certain rooms their own distinct purpose/personality, it makes the place feel more like home. Whether you're in the same house for thirty years, or in a transitional apartment for a matter of months, anywhere you are can feel like home. That has been one of my intentions during this season. For however much longer we are here, I want this townhome to be a place of comfort and rest. I want this place to feel like our home.

~

I have my favorite spot on the couch where I drink my morning coffee, bleary-eyed as I catch up on the morning news show. I have a spot just two feet away in the corner of the other couch where I crochet by lamplight (usually watching my favorite chic flick while I work the hook). The dining room table sometimes serves as my craft table, and I love it most when there is an abundance of sunshine and I can open the blinds. Something about the warmth of the sun pouring in through the window makes my soul happy. When I think of a place to read, to write, to pray and reflect, there is no other place I would rather be than upstairs in our bed. Since I was a young girl, my bedroom was a place of respite away from people and noise, a quiet haven with no distractions around. I've carried that into adulthood, and still savor the late-night hours as my time to spend with the Lord, studying, reading or writing.

~

In these years following seminary (it's still strange to me that I can measure the time in years now), that desire in me to always be a student has been renewed. Not only do I want to continue learning, but I want to take full advantage of the time I have been afforded to soak up and reflect on all I am learning and reading. I'm still working on renewing the discipline of journaling (and I am a believer that it is a discipline - a good discipline, but a discipline nonetheless), but I think that will come with more time and commitment. I have always been a voracious reader and writer, and I am thankful for the opportunity to dive back into all of that. Seminary certainly taught me that just because you are reading ten books at one time by no means ensures that your heart and mind are taking it all in. I have almost had to re-learn how to read for personal challenge and edification. Another benefit of now being out of the seminary context is that I am no longer pressured to read something to have it completed by a certain due date. While it would have been wonderful to glean encouragement and thorough instruction from all of the fantastic books I was tasked with reading for my masters degree, it just was not possible on most occasions.

~

Some people read one book at a time, while others read several spread out over a longer span. I have adopted a method of reading that allows for a variety of genres, but not one that is overwhelming. I make room for always reading something in three main categories: fiction, instruction/teaching, and reflection/devotion. All three are good for the soul, and having something to read in these areas is more important than the number of books I am reading. (I gave up being concerned with the number awhile ago, after I realized I was more focused on marking things off a list than gleaning anything of real value from what I was reading.) Having those three areas represented gives me more freedom to read just one book, or four, all depending on what I feel I am needing (or lacking) during a particular day or week. With that said, here are the books currently taking up residence on my bedside table:

Foundations for Soul Care: A Christian Psychology Proposal ~ Dr. Eric L. Johnson

I hold a Master of Arts in Biblical Counseling. The Christian psychology school of thought has some overlaps to that of biblical counseling, and Southern has professors who hold to both views. While studying, I was surrounded by students and faculty alike who strongly encouraged the biblical counseling method, yet I am now in a local church where Christian psychology is the more widely held perspective. I find it important familiarize myself with Christian psychology, not only as a challenge, but as a means of knowing the different views more thoroughly, knowing where they both differ and overlap, and to be better equipped in engaging others in conversation.

Emma ~ Jane Austen

Oh, Jane Austen, how do I love thee! One of these days I will be able to articulate why Jane Austen, and authors of similar style, are good for a woman's soul. More broadly speaking, fiction is good for the soul, expanding not only our imaginations, but broadening our minds to the beauty and glory of God. In very particular ways, authors of fiction reveal to us the dynamics of relationships, allow us to see life through the eyes of different characters, and expand our perspective on nobility, honor, family, and beauty. Novels can be an effective and unique means of pointing us to right versus wrong, displaying how good ultimately prevails over evil. The magic and wonder of fiction is welcomed into my heart and mind as it points me to the Creator of all things good and beautiful in this world.

A Severe Mercy - With 18 Letters by C.S. Lewis ~ Sheldon Vanauken

We have so very much to learn from the lives of others. Whether written from a personal account, or by an author who has done ample research for a biographical piece, I firmly believe that we have so much to learn from those who have gone before us. This is a book I have been eyeing on our bookshelf for a few years now. Vanauken knew C.S. Lewis personally, and the two gentlemen communicated during what was perhaps the darkest season in both of their lives. Both men knew true conversion, pierced by the irresistible grace of the Savior. Both also knew the great loss of their wives, women who embodied such joy in their life journeys. Reading of the life and loss, joy and tragedy, of others is a crucial reminder that "hope is the constant companion of perseverance" (E. Welch).

Depression: A Stubborn Darkness--A Light for the Path ~ Edward T. Welch

"Hope is the constant companion of perseverance." We were assigned this book to read during one of my courses at Southern, and I wanted to read back through it for personal reflection. At some point in life, every Christian will struggle with one form or another of depression. Whether from great suffering or loss, difficulty coping with an event or season in life, struggling for faith during a time of uncertainty or confusion, the struggle with depression is almost assuredly inevitable. If it weren't so, I don't think we would have so many psalms and passages of lament in Scripture. How often do we read of David asking the Lord to cleanse and examine his heart? Can we fathom those moments when Job cried out after everything was removed from his life, and in all of his questioning never sinned? What is good for us is to acknowledge that the struggle will come; doubt, confusion, anxiety, and fear will rear their ugly heads. Where will we turn when there is no end in sight, when we find ourselves in the valley of shadow? Welch first establishes that there are many causes of depression, one of which can be related to real medical issues. Once he has established that, he then devotes the rest of the book to what we would consider spiritual depression. He deals with both the internal and external factors that can cause us to find ourselves in this very real battle for the soul.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Philippians 4:8)

Back to Posting After a Brief Hiatus~

I know plenty of others who have faced the "What do I write about after a long hiatus?" ordeal when returning to their blogs after time away. And that is where you find me today - wondering what to write about since my last post three months ago. A dear friend (and a clever one at that!) asked where I had run off to since my last post (which, if you scroll down, had to do with running and pretty new shoes). Well, the reality is that I haven't really run off anywhere. Other than our long-anticipated and much-enjoyed time visiting family in Texas, we are back in the 'Ville with no definite end in sight to this season. We thought with near certainty that we would be heading further north shortly after arriving back here in July, but life can take a sudden turn at a moment's notice. Rather than go into the long explanation of the events leading to us not ending up in Ohio, I will let you read my husband's personal account of the very difficult and confusing situation we found ourselves in (and in doing so give a shameless plug for his new blog): "What Happened With Ohio."

In the days - and now months - that followed, I feel that he took the shock much better than I did. Maybe we handled it differently because of how it affected us. He took the brunt of it since he was the one who would have been that church's pastor. He is the one leading our family, and is making concerted efforts to move us beyond this transitional season. Here is how I processed things initially; I liken it to a memory from my job working at the hospital during our senior year in college. Families would come in with the patient being admitted, and while the patient was calm yet nervous, the families were often an utter nervous wreck. In the aftermath of Ohio not happening, I was a real mess of emotion some days, bouncing around from angry to relieved to confused to sad, with a lot more confused thrown in the mix than the others. I just didn't understand what had happened, what had gone wrong, even after we received a very gracious and heartbreaking explanation from the gentleman who led the pastor search committee at this church. Even in the moments of relief, I didn't understand. Why would God bring us so very close to launching into the church ministry our hearts have longed for, only to have the door slammed in our faces, and from a church very likely heading towards complete failure? Why was the one real hope for my husband finally stepping into a pastoral role in the context of a church barely making ends meet? Why, after two years of simply trying to get his foot in the door is my husband continually faced with churches whose criteria he just doesn't quite meet? Why are search committees even the ones given such a great and serious responsibility anyway? The questions continue to come on those days when I find myself more reserved and caught up in my own thoughts. I don't understand, I may not ever understand. And perhaps the most scary question of them all: Is all of this church searching worth the effort, worth the pain and waiting and wondering? Scary, but honest...

Once the initial impact passed and the reality of an unknown timeline set in, I was made keenly aware of the truth that I have a choice to make. I can sit idly by, waiting for tomorrow, not investing my time or energy or heart into anything while we anticipate when and where the next chapter may occur...or I can taste and see that the Lord is good. The verse goes on to say, "Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!" (Psalm 34:8) I can embrace this season as one of rest granted by the only One who knows my weary and confused heart completely (Psalm 139:23-24). I can direct my thoughts toward being grateful for what my husband and I have been given: my wonderful job where I continue to grow and excel, a place to live with a fridge that's (usually) full, a good small group at church who collectively desires to encourage one another, family to support us even from hundreds of miles away (and who I miss now perhaps more than ever), two dogs that bring us such simply joy and lots of laughs, and we have each other. I have never known my husband more, known his daily joys and deepest struggles more deeply, and I have never loved him more than in recent months.

On those days when idleness is the easiest temptation to slide into, I want those to be the times when I fix my attention and affections on the Lord:

Still my soul be still, and do not fear though winds of change may rage tomorrow.
God is at your side, no longer dread the fires of unexpected sorrow.
Chorus: God You are my God, and I will trust in You and not be shaken.
Lord of peace renew a steadfast spirit within me to rest in You alone.
Still my soul be still, do not be moved by lesser lights and fleeting shadows.
Hold onto His ways with shield of faith against temptations flaming arrows...
Still my soul be still, do not forsake the Truth you learned in the beginning.
Wait upon the Lord and hope will rise as stars appear when day is dimming...
(Keith & Kristyn Getty)

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope:
The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
His mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
Great is Your faithfulness.
"The Lord is my portion," says my soul, "therefore I will hope in Him."
The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
to the soul who seeks Him. (Lamentations 3:21-25)

Running? Me?

Never have I ever ever ever had the desire to take part in rigorous excercise of any sort. Never. Ever. I remember as a child my parents having to practically throw me outdoors to get my nose out of books, prying pens and markers out of my hands, just do something active. Then during my silly-girl teen years, I dreaded the idea of sweating. I wanted to *glisten* but not sweat...Gross. Marching band was about as far as I got in regard to any kind of real activity, and that unfortunately lasted just two short seasons. As we grew through high school and college, I admired my best friend in her efforts to run, and for her overall diligence in making time for exercise in her busy schedule. For me, though, my tagline has always been, "Yeah, I do better just walking, you know, the lighter aerobic kinds of activity." Don't get me wrong - I do love walking. I love walking outdoors with no time limit, taking in the sights around me, soaking up the sun, listening to the otherwise missed sounds of creation around me. But in all honesty, the easy fallback of claiming to do better with lighter activity has been a total excuse. I have rarely been inclined to push myself beyond my comfort level, and often give up before I really even get going. The lack of discipline has been an issue as well, thinking up reasons as to why I just don't have time and can't fit one more thing into my week.

So why now? Why did I decide just a couple of weeks ago that I would start running? Not purchase a new workout DVD, not go to the fitness center and hop on the elliptical - no, the decision was to run. (For a day or two there I thought I was having a brief mental break, but the feeling soon passed.) After days and weeks and months of feeling completely blah after long workdays, only to come home and sit my tail on the couch in my pj's as soon as humanly possible, I was done. I was tired of being tired, tired of feeling awful, and wanted to do something that made me feel better physically (and emotionally and mentally). My husband was also a significant encouragement; after watching me become increasingly more lethargic and generally feeling more down, he encouraged me to get out and start running with one of the dogs. He knew I would feel better, and knew I could do it as long as I applied myself. And was he ever right!

The first evening I went out to our neighborhood was merely a test. I wanted to get out and just see how my body would respond to higher impact, how long I could run before needing to walk again, and just learn how I responded to high activity level. I didn't get very far - at all - but I wasn't discouraged and had a good idea of how far I could push myself and then hopefully increase over time. My dad was in town last weekend and, being the avid runner he is, he went with me to a running store to buy the bee-a-utiful kicks pictured above. Those shoes have made such a difference in how my feet and legs feel when I run, and I'm all the more motivated to keep up this new challenge!

The commitment to running has helped me enjoy life more. As I noted above, I have a bad habit of coming straight home from work, complaining that I'm tired, and using that as my justification for doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the evening. Similar to walking, it gets me outdoors to enjoy the world around me. The neighborhood is often quiet when I go, but my best friend also suggested that I try listening to music. I never understood why some claim that running is like a spiritual discipline to them, but even in my brief introductory attempts I'm beginning to understand. There is something simultaneously freeing and challenging about getting out there, feeling my heart beat strong in my chest, feeling the wind against my face as I press on, feeling the very breath the Lord has given course through my system. It's an intriguing experience. I'm contemplating keeping a journal for this journey - nothing fancy, but at least a log of my progress, as well as notes on what setbacks I experience and personal growth along the way. I'm eager for this experience, and in no rush to run a 5k in three days~

Chip

My husband and I never really knew Chip Stam, but he was one of those rare individuals who knew no stranger. Chip was a professor at Southern Seminary, pastor and worship leader at Clifton Baptist Church, and a man who radiated the love and joy of Christ. Absolutely radiated. Through testimonies from those closer to him, and even through my own limited interactions, it was evident to all that he was a man whose love for Jesus was infectious and who sincerely delighted in worshipping our King. Even after his initial diagnosis in 2007, Chip faced his battle with cancer smiling and knowing that the victory was already won. He was diligent in keeping friends near and far updated through an online journal, and his wife posted the letter yesterday informing loved ones of his passing on Sunday: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/carlstam. In her letter, she references his favorite passage from the Heidelberg Catechism:

Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?
A. That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.
He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven: in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.
Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.

~~~

My clearest memory of Chip was from three years ago, roughly a year after his diagnosis. One of mine and my husband's favorite worship groups, Indelible Grace, was in Louisville and had a concert at Clifton Baptist. We happened to sit in the pew right next to Chip and his lovely wife. At this time in his cancer journey, Chip was wearing a brace which wrapped around his entire torso and was held in place by velcro. I will never hear "Come Ye Sinners" without thinking of Chip keeping in time with the music as if he was a one-man band: tapping his foot and drumming the beat on his brace. (I'm pretty sure I heard him messing with the velcro straps a few times, too!) Such a memory really holds in my mind who he was and how others saw him: a man who loved to worship, no matter the trial, and did so with overwhelming joy.

~~~

In following the news of his passing yesterday, several songs from Keith and Kristyn Getty were running through my mind throughout the day. Chip was always one of their biggest fans, and they were huge fans of his in return. One of the last memories of him being out in public was at the Christmas concert they held at Southern's Alumni Chapel just this past December. We were in the balcony, and Chip had situated himself on the front row. The Gettys made it a special point to acknowledge his presence there, and to honor him as a man who had so richly encouraged and supported them over the years.

~~~

The man with the infectious joy, the one who absolutely radiated the joy and love of Christ, is now with the King. While his family and close friends are sorrowful over such a great loss, those of us who are in Christ rejoice, and at times even weep, to think of him beholding the One whom He so fervently loved and honored with his life. Glory and praise to God for giving us such an example even if for a brief time. Chip has entered that eternal rest, and is now worshipping in perfect song:

There is a higher throne than all this world has known,

Where faithful ones from ev'ry tongue will one day come.

Before the Son we'll stand, made faultless through the Lamb;

Believing hearts find promised grace—Salvation comes.

Hear heaven's voices sing; their thund'rous anthem rings

Through em'rald courts and sapphire skies, their praises rise.

All glory, wisdom, pow'r, strength, thanks, and honor are

To God our King, who reigns on high forevermore.

And there we'll find our home, our life before the throne;

We'll honor Him in perfect song where we belong.

He'll wipe each tear-stained eye as thirst and hunger die.

The Lamb becomes our Shepherd King; we'll reign with Him.

(Keith & Kristyn Getty)

Going Under the Laser

While I was called brave for going out in public so soon after, I can't say that I'm brave enough to post pictures of the procedure. Maybe I'll be brave enough one of these days, but not today! In the meantime, I decided to post this picture that one of my best friend's tweaked just a few days ago (and because it's one of my current favorites of my adorable husband!):

So what exactly was this procedure I had just over three weeks ago?

First, a little back story that led up to this big decision:

Almost two years ago, my husband accompanied me to my bi-annual appointment at the Tuberous Sclerosis Clinic. Upon entering the waiting area and signing, we couldn't help but notice a woman sitting in one of the chairs. She was there alone. This isn't the type of clinic where I have seen patients there by themselves, so this woman and the absence of a friend or family member struck me. Not only was she at the clinic alone, but I also momentarily observed her complexion. If you're one who knows me well enough, you would see the large red areas on my jawline and cheek. It's an area that gets more puffy in the heat of summertime, and hurts considerably if I have even the slightest breakout on the skin there. Well...that red is what covered this woman's entire face. It made me sad to see her in the waiting room by herself...

In comparison to testimonies I have read and people whom I have met personally, I have it easy. Considering the common symptoms and how much more painful (emotionally and physically) things could be, I count myself fortunate to only have some of the more mild manifestations of TS. I go every five years to have an MRI of my brain, and a scan of my chest and kidneys to ensure that all is okay internally. Externally speaking, I have the primary skin manifestations which have gradually worsened over time. With each passing year, I notice the overall condition of my skin worsening ever so slightly, and the redness becomes more noticeable (and painful depending on where it's located).

While some claim to hardly notice the imperfections, I see my skin in the mirror every morning and night. Some days I would consider myself fairly content, but most days I look and wonder what if. What if I had a more smooth complexion, areas that weren't so sensitive to the slightest irritation...what if my face wasn't so red and textured...what if I had some guarantee that my skin would not continue to worsen over time? If I'm not hearing the Gospel, if I'm not hearing that I was beautifully and wonderfully created, I'm prone to the downward spiral of self-pity. And this is where my husband comes in - my nurturing, comforting, truth-speaking husband. My husband calls me beautiful not to merely make me feel better about myself, but because he believes it. He believes that beauty is more than skin-deep and that, even with imperfections I can do little to nothing about, I am lovely. I struggle to hear that on the days when I'm not clinging to the Truth that I am created in the image of God. My husband desires that I see myself as he sees me (and as HE sees me), and that my imperfections are not cause for me to think less of myself. With all of this at the foundation of his encouragement, he has continued to support any decision I make regarding treatment options. He knows that anything considered "cosmetic" would be a leap for me, a step of faith both physically and emotionally. After many months of thinking through my options (and often over-analyzing all that "cosmetic" means in my head), I decided to schedule a consultation with the plastic surgeon affiliated with my dermatologist's practice.

After a very comfortable discussion with the doctor, I was even more certain that this particular procedure would be a good option. Not only was she understanding of my concern that it wouldn't work, that I would not see the change I was hoping for, but she also understood my concerns regarding the cost and frustration of dealing with insurance. She gave me plenty of information upfront so that I would know all the facts about what I was going to have done. So just a couple of weeks after the consultation, I scheduled the procedure date. The doctor performed what is referred to as a CO2 laser procedure, one of the primary treatment options for those who experience the skin manifestations of Tuberous Sclerosis. The laser literally vaporizes the skin, as well as collapsing blood vessels. I will spare all the details, but she went layer by layer on my skin for the larger areas, some of which were much more deep than others. While I was awake during the procedure, I was far from coherent! We laugh now that I don't remember all that much from the first two days following the procedure (and that I scared two little boys while walking out to the parking garage!), what with the medications they gave me, the exhaustion I had from anxiety leading up to the procedure, and the simple fact of my body healing after something so intense.

Leading up to the day, we were a little overwhelmed by all of the post-op instructions we were given. There were very set steps, especially during the first week, for healing fully. From cold gauze treatments every three hours to applying two different ointments to my face (affectionately referred to as "the goopies") to elevating my head when I slept to not being in even indirect sunlight...we were overwhelmed. But little did we know just how tiring those first couple of days would be. Because I was so helpless during those first 48 hours or so, I was all the more overwhelmed and grateful for my husband's care. He slept a total of three hours during the first three days, all for the sake of ensuring that I was comfortable and that we were following the post-op instructions. He handled all of the cold gauze treatments, applied the ointments on my face, and served me the food that was brought to us from our dear church friends. Once I began feeling more like myself, I realized the impact of how much my husband had done. I was amazed and moved to tears numerous times during the week following the procedure as I thought of all he had to done for the sake of my comfort as I slowly began to heal.

I continue to heal and wonder about the end result. I see small steps, but I'm also a near-sighted individual who lacks patience. At my followup appointments to come I will have a better idea of how the doctor thinks things are going and if I will possibly need additional spot treatments down the road. The resurfacing of my skin is already noticeable, but the other more intense areas will simply take longer. This procedure has taught me alot about myself and where my heart is. I wouldn't recommend this kind of thing to just anyone, simply because there is an internal struggle with whether or not an individual puts misplaced value in the results. I know that I won't be a better person because my skin is pretty. I know that I won't be more valuable as a person or to others because of a "flawless" complexion. What I do know is that I am at a place where I was able to take advantage of a wonderful opportunity. More than anything, this process of healing provided a time for real and sweet rest, as well as growing even closer to my husband. The first time I shed a tear wondering if this procedure would be worth it, his response was, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." He has always faithfully encouraged and pointed my heart towards Christ, and this experience has been no exception. He makes me want to be brave~

Crocheting & a Little Lesson in Sanctification

I finally finished it! After months of work, setting it aside, coming back, working some more, setting it aside, etc., I finished my very first crochet project. I knew back in...August that I wanted to make this baby blanket for my best friend in celebration of her daughter's birth. October rolled around, and the blanket I planned to completely surprise her with when I visited remained unfinished. After six long months, the blanket was taken to the post office for delivery (and I still managed to pull off the surprise!).

Much to my own surprise, this little endeavor wasn't just another experiment with a new craft in my hands. I learned more than I would have ever anticipated.

Do you want to know a secret about me...? The secret is this: I am not a disciplined person... At all. I have a natural tendency to do just enough to get by when faced with a task or new project. I know my natural strengths, put forth that much effort, and set it aside the minute I'm faced with the next big step of moving beyond my initial strength and diving into a new challenge. This has happened at some point with virtually every subject or art I have set my mind to: certain spiritual disciplines, piano, vocal training, schoolwork, and various other crafts I have attempted. When faced with a challenge, I simply set it aside and return to that which I'm more comfortable with and naturally inclined toward. (And this is why I will forever strive to encourage young people to press on when faced with new challenges beyond their natural abilities - this advice coming from a woman who regularly kicks herself in the pants for not persevering when I studied piano all those years ago!)

When I began working the very first row of this baby blanket pattern, I simply was not getting it. I couldn't see the difference in a single vs. double crochet, my hands fumbled all over the yarn and hook, and I found very little enjoyment in the project before me. On a number of occasions, I was tempted to pack it all up and redirect my creativity back to scrapbooking. However, through much prayer, I kept pushing through. I knew I had to finish this blanket: not just for my best friend and her precious baby girl (although they were, of course, of utmost importance!!), but for myself as well. I learned anew the very rich benefit there is to be discovered when we push ourselves beyond our natural talents or abilities. To this day, I regret not possessing the discipline within to continue studying piano. What do I have to show for it now? An early-intermediate understanding of how to play that was stopped short all because of my lack of perseverance. This blanket was GOOD for me, and a completely unanticipated time of growth in my relationship with the Lord. Even crafts as simple as crocheting a baby blanket for a friend can serve as a means for real growth. Thank You, Lord!

~~~

Join Me in Prayer!

"In adopting we model for children and others the mercy and the justice of God.
We model mercy because we freely choose to love this child, no matter what. Many adoptions happen sight unseen. The child passes no test. He is loved freely without meeting conditions. We don’t base our choice on what we see. We love because we have been loved. This is mercy." ~J.Piper

(Photo courtesy of Pandaleidoscope)

(Photo courtesy of Pandaleidoscope)

Please pray with me this weekend for this precious family. They have been caring for the priceless little girl whose hand is pictured above off and on for the past year. Her presence has renewed their hope in the adoption process, and their daughter (in the above picture with me) has already come to see her as a little sister. If all goes accordingly, this chubby, joyful, beautiful toddler will be placed in their home on Tuesday - as in four days from now. This has been a long and painful process. They long to finally have her home, and I long for her to finally be in her forever home as well. I cannot help but reflect on the greater picture and meaning of adoption when I think of my husband and when I think of this "Panda Family." They have meant more to me than words can express, and I have witnessed this journey they have been on with both tears and eager expectation!
~
To the Panda Family: I was reading articles and sermons this morning, and came across this excerpt from a letter John Piper wrote to his wife just prior to adopting their daughter. I wanted to share it with you as it resonates with all of our prayers for you personally, for the future of your family, and for this little life that will soon come into your home:
~
"With this common conviction we will, God willing, embrace our new daughter and give ourselves, with all the might that God inspires in us, to love her into the kingdom. May the Lord establish the plans of our hearts, and bring [her] (and the future husband God already knows) into deep and lasting fellowship with Christ. May she be an ebony broach of beauty around your neck, and a crown of purity and joy on your head..."

Three Years In

"'I do' are the two most famous last words, the beginning of the end

But to lose your life for another I've heard is a good place to begin

'Cause the only way to find your life is to lay your own life down

And I believe it's an easy price for the life that we have found

And we're dancing in the minefields

We're sailing in the storm

This is harder than we dreamed

But I believe that's what the promise is for

So when I lose my way, find me

When I loose love's chains, bind me

At the end of all my faith, till the end of all my days

When I forget my name, remind me

'Cause we bear the light of the Son of Man, so there's nothing left to fear

So I'll walk with you in the shadowlands 'til the shadows disappear

'Cause he promised not to leave us and his promises are true

So in the face of all this chaos, baby, I can dance with you

Let's going dancing in the minefields

Let's going sailing in the storm

This is harder than we dreamed

But I believe that's what the promise is for"

(from Andrew Peterson's "Dancing in the Minefields")

~~~

Our wedding anniversary falls just after everyone is ringing in the New Year, January 5th, and for that I am glad. I'm glad because the two celebrations lend themselves to much time spent reflecting on our how our marriage has been over the course of the previous year: where we've been, where we are, and where we desire to be as the journey continues on. This year is no exception as we've found ourselves having long conversations into the wee hours of the night, both reminiscing on good memories and also doing the hard work of examining our own hearts. Where I'm certain our culture - and really the whole of this fallen world apart from our Savior's redeeming work - has things wrong is centered around this truth: entering into marriage means entering into something that isn't about you. How much of what we do - the contexts we place ourselves in, the people we choose to surround ourselves with, etc. - is about what fills our selfish wants? How much of what we do and want and think has our own self-promotion (acceptance, pleasing others) or self-preservation (security, removal from the potential of people finding out who you really are) as the end goal? The mind-boggling, counter-cultural reality of Christian marriage is that you're making a promise to put another human being above your own wants and needs, all the while seeking your ultimate satisfaction together and individually in Christ alone. Embracing that and running hard after Christ together involves much heart work, the kind I would so often prefer to avoid, and many of those late-night talks. And they're all worth it. Those talks are worth lack of sleep, worth realizing that you don't have it all figured out, worth acknowledging that you were wrong and are in constant need of grace.

~

In the note I left for him on Wednesday morning, I thanked my husband for saying "I do" on that day three years ago and for saying it everyday since then. He has loved me and led me in ways I could not have hoped for, and in ways I would have never imagined were for my good. Thank you, my husband - my groom, for leading and loving me well. You love me as I am, yet continually challenge me to press into Christ all the more. Thank you for the journey thus far, and for leading me in the dance even when I stumble ~ All my love ~