First thoughts?

The alarm came all too soon at 7:05am this morning. My first thoughts were about my dream I had been having. It was weird to say the least. I roll out of bed and my feet hit the ground. It’s cold. I’m cold. I walk to the bathroom to wash my face and nearly stumble over my bookbag. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and feel the cold water assaulting my face. I breathe in deeply. My thoughts drift to other things like the quiz I have today, the dream I had, the interview I have, will I get the job? and then I think about my dream again. Then it hits me. How much have I thought about God yet this morning? In reading for my Small Groups class we were assigned a book by Dietrich Bonhoeffer called “Life Together.” Something Dietrich talks about is how God deserves our first thought in the morning and our last thought at night. How often is He far from my first thought and how often do I instead groan about another day of school when I should be blessing Him for it? Father forgive me…I don’t know what I am doing. Thank you for this beautiful day and the ways that You show me that You love me. You are beautiful, and I love you.

real

“Now here is my secret. I tell it to you with an openness of heart I doubt I will ever achieve again . . . My secret is that I need God—that I am sick and can no longer make it alone. I need God to help me give, because I no longer seem to be capable of giving; to help me be kind, as I no longer seem capable of kindness; to help me love, as I seem beyond being able to love.”-

Douglas Coupland

There are times in life where I literally feel like I’ve run out of gas. I feel like I can’t move, and I certainly don’t want to breathe. I feel dry-dead-lifeless. I lose my passion, and my joy. Sure, I run around with this fake smile on my face and pretend to have it all together but unless you really know me, you will not even notice a change in my voice. I can count on one hand the people who can notice when I am this way, and even some people who I count as my closest of friends and family cannot notice on some days the depth of my hidden sorrows. I am good at drama, and I am good at pretending I am someone I am not. It makes me want to be sick some days. Sometimes I’m tired of being viewed as the “good Christian girl” because if you could see my heart you could see how I struggle to love, how I struggle to forgive and how I struggle to be real, the things I think and the things I have done-you’d run out of the room screaming.

God is doing a work in my heart. In a world full of fake, and a heart full of fake, I am becoming real, and I am getting my joy again. I wanted to break through in High School and I never could, and today I realized that I am becoming real. I am admitting the times that I am not okay, and I am letting people love me not for who I want them to think I am but for who I really am. I am learning that loving people when I am hurting is one of the best ways I can deal with my hurt because I see that I am needed. I am loved for who I am and the gifts God has given me and I am not as alone as I feel. I am learning to accept love even when I don’t feel worthy of it. I am learning that God gives me people to love me and when I do not let them love me, I am missing out on one of the greatest blessings He gives me. I am so blessed. When I feel like I can’t possibly love or give to anyone else, I learn that I have forgotten to let HIM pour into me, and others pour into me so how can I expect to have anything to give if I don’t have anything pouring into me? Tonight my heart is light with the joy that He has poured into me once again. I am healed, and restored by His healing waters poured over my heart.

Live. Love. Laugh. Learn what being real looks like for you. Let go. Lower yourself. Most of all, know that you are loved even if I have never met you.

Dear God…

Like a rock in the ocean
I have been tossed
here
and there
and here
and there.

and I can’t take it anymore.

Where do you want me?
can you toss me there?
I feel like there’s a plan

even in this chaos
but sometimes it kills

and I feel sick all the time lately

I guess that’s part of the process though.
you are making me smooth
taking off the rough edges
exposing them to the grit of the sand
and making me so I can serve you better
and isn’t it worth it?
I thank you for this chaos.
I thank you for these waves.
I thank you for the pain
that is making me smooth

and then I’m asking You, where are we even at?
I remember what it was like
the first time i opened your word
the words jumped out at me
and I was so in love
so taken
so romanced
so full of trust for you
and even though you had stripped away all I had cared about…

everything-I trusted you.

Was my trust blind,
and is that really bad after all?
That the words don’t grab me like they should.

So when did I become apathetic?
when did I start to think about what I was doing?

when did I start to apply my logic
and reasoning to our relationship?

Why have I transfered human characteristics onto you
and tried to make you fit into this human sized box?
when you just can’t fit….

no matter how I shove you.
I am sorry for shoving you
into my logic and reasoning
and making you
smaller then you should be.

I hate this.

I’m thinking.
Crap.
When do I stop thinking?
Ugh…..

So, Your plans are so much greater then mine.
and I can’t wrap my little head around them.
Everytime I think about that part of me
that part of my past
I’m tired of asking why
and wondering if it was my fault.
beating myself up
and furthering my distrust of you
So that’s another thing that’s just
gots. to. go.
So can you take the sand and
make the rough parts of my past smooth?

And then there’s this.
All my fear
of men
and automatically assuming that they are all
out to get me
like my father warned me that they were
and like I’ve learned is true.
There’s someone out there
just for me
someone who won’t break my heart
or hurt me
I just have to wait
and learn to trust you first.
So Lord, increase my trust.

See all my questions
and this distrust
and this fear

help me lose it all
throw it away
and forget it existed
but let it be made into something new
recycled into something that
brings You glory
I’m so sick of distrust.

so, let me trust
and love
and learn
and grow
and help me know

how to suffer long
(which is really what being patient means)
with others and with myself
like you have done for me.

TWLOHA

Tomorrow is To Write Love On Her Arms day. You better believe I will be writing love on my arm, and I ask you to do it too. For those of you unaware of TWLOHA, it was founded to raise awareness about self-harm, depression and suicide. While thinking about TWLOHA, I decided to write a poem about the struggles and addictions I’ve seen people walk through and the courage that I see them have. You are never as alone as you feel. If you ever wonder “does anyone care?” I assure you, people DO care and you ARE loved. It’s never too late to run into the arms of love, it’s never too late to stop what has been started. There IS hope, I promise.

“Forms”
Ice cold,
poured out like a poison,
dripping from my veins,
without reason.

Super sweet,
begin to weep,
sip it down,
before you drown.

Shattered glance,
last romance,
lock and key,
is all you’ll see.

Flickering computer screen,
naive at fifteen,
consequences unseen,
actions become routine.

Words cutting down,
making her bleed,
anger renowned,
it is but the seed.

She was too young,
too fragile to be broken,
prayed he’d be done,
sorry was never spoken.

Flashing lights,
hands behind bars,
sleepless nights,
more then physical scars.

Images in red,
violence to be said,
cries in the night,
silent at the light.

Empty handed,
completely alone.
Taken for granted,
nothing shown.

Reaching to the sky,
we realize we are not too far gone.
our need we do not deny,
You give us strength to move on.

I also wrote a poem to my friends fighting battles that I can’t be there for you through.

“Fighting Alone”
It’s not my battle to fight,
I’m oceans away,
I’m missing you tonight.
So much I want to say.
Words couldn’t make it out,
even while you were here,
darkness about,
I feel your fear.
Why is it that I want to be your savior?
Ride up on my horse and snatch you away.
I cannot cure the disease of your behavior,
and I watch it destroy you one more day.
Feeling so distant from your situation,
mouth to miles, it takes time to inform,
I’m finding myself desperate for information,
as if simply knowing will calm the storm.
the water is beginning to rise,
I feel it surging in my chest,
this is no surprise,
but I lay my fear to rest.
Crucify them on a tree,
I turn and face the sun,
where at last I am free.
I’ll point you to the one,
who holds you through the storm,
I’ll hold you until it’s done,
knowing His grace will transform,
beauty for ashes,
mercy and grace,
greatness crashes,
at the sight of his face.

earning love

All my life I saw love as something that was earned. I saw how it could be removed if I did something wrong. Half of the reason why I don’t openly express my rebellion is because I don’t want whoever it is to stop loving me. My fears are completely irrational, I understand this, but at times, they still paralyze me. I find myself going out of my way in order to avoid a situation that may result in someone walking away from me because selfishly I could not handle someone being mad at me because I felt like their anger would mean that they did not love me. With God, I know his love is different.

It’s a hard journey. Sometimes I find myself still subconsciously trying to earn his love. I will refrain from questioning his will because I don’t want him to stop loving me. I will serve Him extra hard when my heart is not in it to earn His favor. I find myself questioning if he loves me anymore if I do not feel his presence. Has he abandoned me like other people did? I don’t feel worthy of his love so I try and earn it. Can I just exist and know that He loves me? Can I just rest in His presence and know that He delights in me. I am very much a Martha, scurrying around trying to make things perfect and wait on people hand and foot when I should be a Mary, just resting at His feet delighting in His presence and letting Him love me.

I don’t earn his love. There’s no amount of stuff I can do to make Him love me more. Does that amaze anyone else?

hands that hide my shame

It started as a poem, continued as a song, ended as a prayer, and went back and forth again. Sometimes words fail to do feelings justice, but this is just a hint of the feelings of my ever restless heart.

I find myself falling into,
the hands that hide my shame,
screaming all the reasons,
I’ve fallen from your name.
You held me close to your heart,
while I tore my life apart,
I crushed your hopes and dreams,
pieces of perfection, nothing was as it seemed.
And How far can I run tonight?
That you won’t follow me?
How deep can this darkness be?
That you won’t catch me in your arms
and draw me to your chest.
Breathe in the fragrance,
at your breast.
And How far can I be from you?
that you wouldn’t fight one thousand demons,
or make foolish all my reasons,
that I avoid your name.
How far will you go to beat ,
off of my back and break every stronghold,
that keeps me from you?
Let me fall into your love
let me fall into your grace
remember once again the love we had
before I turned from your beautiful face
peruse me once again
let me feel your warm embrace
I long for Your touch,
Father, renew me once again.

 

psalm of my heart

Why is it that we so often lose our way? If it is that we walk towards the beat of the heart of the one we love then why is it that our hearts so often wonder off course and become distracted by the beats of other lovers? Why do we wonder searching for false loves to comfort us when we know that the only thing that will remedy the depth of need we create within ourselves by starving Christ away is Christ himself? Why is it that I find myself so often in this romantic affair pattern floating from true husband to false in 2.5 seconds distractions floating in my mind as I try and wrap my brain around His grace, love, justice and mercy? Why is it so easy for me to forget all that He brought me through…all that He brought me out of…all that He stood beside me watching, crying with me when I refused to let the tears fall for fear that I would break? Why is it that I allow my anger and sin to hold me captive and not break down the walls I build inside of my heart the moment I feel the pain grab onto me? I really am like a turtle. I withdraw into the shell where I am protected. Would you Lord please rip off the shell of my comfort and invade my space. Make me uncomfortable, allow me to feel the shame of unfaithfulness and run back to you. You know me, You formed me, You know my needs and my desires. Be Lord over them. You have been so faithful and so good all my life. I don’t deserve You. I don’t deserve Your blessings. Grateful, grateful is my cry to You. Thankful, thankful is what I am for You.

blue plastic chairs and jumpsuits

What will it take for the church and in society to realize that the men and woman in our state and federal prisons are more than just a number, they are a name. Inmates are often stripped of identity and of humanity when they enter our correctional institutions and they often emerge worse than when they entered. What’s devastating is that they believe that they are forgotten and that no one cares about them. Why do they believe that they are forgotten you may ask? Because they ARE forgotten way too many times. We do not care for them like we should. Why do we walk by them and not take the chance to show them the love of Jesus Christ and His forgiveness and grace?

Should Jesus care about the murderer? Should He care about the rapist? Which does Jesus love more-the raped or the rapist? Which does he love more? The murdered or the murderer? These are all great questions to evaluate, but real questions prod us to action. If Jesus loves the murder and rapist like we know that He does why do we refuse to go and love them too? Jesus came to minister to the people who made mistakes, the people who were harlots, the people who were prostitutes and the inmate charged with sexually abusing a five year old girl. Does our coming to prison support their action-NO! We do not support the behaviors that many of the, but we love them because they were created in the image of God too.

It says that every sin in the Bible is equal in the eyes of God. In that case I should be serving 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 (etc.) life sentences for the sin I’ve accumulated in my life and I should be on death row but Jesus took my place. It’s  not good to dwell on sin but I’ve recently been reminded of where I was by my sin being brought back to my eyes…and when I think of what God has brought me from and let’s say I am more amazed by His grace and mercy each and every day and sometimes I don’t even have words to speak when I think of the chains that He broke and how He freed me from the prison that I was in when He gave His son. How can you remain cold hearted to the needs of your brother when you claim to have your life changed?

If you’ve never worshiped along an inmate then you don’t know true worship. There’s nothing like a cell to make you realize your need and desperation for God. I wrote this poem for my friends at Philadelphia House of Corrections, and Bertie Correctional Institution. Singing “Nothing but the Blood” with you is an experience I will never forget. “What can wash away my sin? nothing but the blood of Jesus. What can make me whole again? Nothing but the blood of Jesus.” I refuse to forget you. Hebrews 13:3.

“Nothing but the Blood”
What can wash away my sin?
The sin that holds me in these chains,
I’ve finally found my freedom,
embraced in the arms of change.
I wait in this never-ending wilderness,
serving every minute due of my time.
Remind me once again of your faithfulness,
as I’m forced to take it back and rewind.
Locks on every door, wire on the fences,
heart is unsure, left with so many glances,
hard plastic chair assaulting my senses,
I hang my head knowing I deserve my sentence.
Chains binding my body but not my spirit,
I am enclosed like an animal-pacing my cell.
Regret is my crime but I refuse to fear it,
I carry with me my story to tell.
Will you look me in the eye,
Will you take the time to really see me,
must you wait until I die,
to see what is within me?
My eyes are those of your brother’s,
Your hands are those of Jesus’s
my sorrow is that of your mother’s,
I watch you as you slowly walk away,
through the gates and doors,
and onto your day.
Remember me,
do not forget my name.
Choose to see me,
never be the same.

Operating tables

I’m still alive.

but I feel as though I have been on the operating table of the Lord.

You know the times in your life where you find yourself removed from most of your best friends…your family…and the people that you turn to help you though? You find yourself totally isolated-and on the operating table of the Lord.

He stands before you, scapulae in hand and you shutter knowing what is coming. You know He is healing you but in order to do that He has to rearrange stuff, pull out all these cancerous growths that are killing you and mend all of the broken parts that you’ve tried to fix yourself but with no avail.

One day I will wake up out of this anesthesia and see that He has restored me. One day I will wake to find beauty from this. Infact, I think He gives us little glimpses of what it will be like in order to strengthen us.

Like my best friend Ash said, surgeries can be scary, but this one is healing. There’s nowhere I’d rather be then on the operating table of the Lord. It’s not safe, but it’s what I must do to be saved.

So….here I am.

So….. here I am Lord,
a collision of panicked thoughts.
Swirling, consuming, overwhelming.
I feel like an elephant is on my chest,
My lungs fail to inflate.
I. can’t. breathe.

So…here I am Lord.
I’m fighting internally.
In a boxing ring,
of my flesh and spirit.
Fists up, but I’m believing,
I. can’t. win.

So…here I am Lord.
It’s just me.
I’m worried.
it’s about tomorrow again.
Insecure. Afraid. Knowing I’ve failed before.
I. can’t. stand. It.

So…here I am Lord.
I keep looking at the picture.
Wondering why….again.
I thought I was over this.
Why now?
I. can’t. get. Over. It.

So….here I am Lord.
the timing all seems all off
are you sure this is your plan?
it just seems so crazy
here, there, back again.
I. can’t. keep. Moving.

So….here I am Lord.
my future in front of me
my past behind
why do I doubt you?
why do I hide?
I. can’t. keep. This. Up.

So…here I am Lord.
I’ve given up.
and it’s the best place to be.
Surrounded by the comfort,
of eternity.
I. am. Dying.

So here I am Lord,
Dying to me.
and my panic.
the belief I will fail.
fear of the future.
regret of the past.
my crazy schedule.
and everything
that keeps me from you.