Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Words and Love

"Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
Be acceptable in Your sight,
O LORD, my strength and my Redeemer."
(Psalm 19:14 NKJV)

There are so many words to say about the state of this world, this nation, right now. And yet I know that no matter how purposefully I choose them, my own words will never be enough.

Enough to speak to and soothe the pain on every side.

Enough to find the common ground we can all shake our heads "yes" to.

Enough to universally satisfy; enough to keep that dreaded reaction—offense—from springing up in whoever is on the receiving end of the words I share.

We live in a world that's desperate to define microaggressions in the hopes that other words, like marginalization, will cease to exist. And yet a quick scroll through Twitter will tell you that, by and large, we still see no problem with—in a very macro way—using our words to annihilate the viewpoint of anyone who dares to disagree with us about any given issue, usually via an attack on said person's character or intellect.  

Raise your hand if you've ever seen the words "go kill yourself" tweeted to a politician, an activist, or just some person on the internet who accidentally composed their thoughts the wrong way and went viral because of it.

The words we use don't line up with the things we say we want for this country, this nation.

We have so much work to do in the way of love.

And speaking of love—I believe we've watered it down. That's because I don't believe that love is an emotion. It's not a feeling. It's not something that can be given and then taken away when the person we're loving says, or does, or even believes something wrong.

"Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God. He who does not love does not know God, for God is love." (1 John 4:7-8)

I believe that there's good in the world, and I believe that when we use our words to cry out for more love, we mean it. But I also believe that in so many ways, we've gotten it backwards. We've elevated love to the position of a deity, believing that if we can just love more this world will be fixed. This is futile, because the truth is that love isn't God. God is love. 

The Love that He personifies is sacrificial, completely devoid of selfishness, all-knowing and constant anyway. The fact that my God can see every motivation of my heart and continue His perfect Love towards me brings me to my knees. 

Because here is something that I know He sees: I want to be loved by all men. I want everyone to like me and agree with what I have to say. I have an actual fear of being ostracized due to a misinterpretation of my beliefs or words; of being dragged through the mud of social media and labeled as something I'm not. Of being hated and reviled. Maligned and misunderstood.

And yet then I recall that my God already was. 

The same people who waved palm fronds and welcomed Jesus to Jerusalem spit on His face and shouted "crucify" just a few days later. Jesus, who never sinned. Jesus, who never had mixed motivations. Jesus, who had spent three years giving sight to the blind, healing the lame, and raising the dead out of an overflow of compassion for all men. Jesus, the Son of God who could have justified Himself in an instant and obliterated anyone and everyone else who said otherwise. 

This Jesus, My God, did not go to the cross with vengeance and anger in His heart. He went to the cross not only in perfect love, but as Perfect Love itself, crying out "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do." (Luke 24:34) The One least deserving of shame and reproach bore it willingly so that I could be made free and gain acceptance as a child of God. 

"For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God." (2 Corinthians 5:21)

It would be easier to love those who stand in complete opposition to us if we weren't confronted by their opinions every day—the ones that make us feel completely out of control and more than misunderstood. I know this. I've felt this. But I'm not called to limit my love to those who agree with me or love me back. I'm called to love as I've been loved.

"As the Father loved Me, I also have loved you; abide in My love. If you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love, just as I have kept My Father's commandments and abide in His love. These things I have spoken to you, that My joy may remain in you, and that your joy may be full. This is My commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends." (1 John 15:11-13; keep reading here)

To be clear, this passage on love doesn't end here—immediately after, Jesus explains why the world will hate us for following Him (read that passage here). He knew these days of violent actions and vicious words would come. So I'm going to trust Him in this world, in this nation. I'm going to intentionally call to remembrance what He bore on the cross before bearing up arms. And by His grace, I'm going to continue to love even if and when the world's commendation turns to condemnation.


- - -

"Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind. Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called, that you may obtain a blessing." (1 Peter 3:8-9; this entire letter focuses on encouraging believers, by way of Christ's example, who are suffering—start from the beginning here)

"Blessed are you when they revile and persecute you, and say all kinds of evil against you falsely for My sake. Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your reward in heaven, for so they persecuted the prophets who were before you." (Matthew 5:11-12) 

"You have heard that it was said, 'You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.' But I say to you, love your enemies, bless those who curse you, do good to those who hate you, and pray for those who spitefully use you and persecute you, that you may be sons of your Father in heaven; for He makes His sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust." (Matthew 5:43-45)




Monday, April 25, 2016

Come Away


This morning, I reached for a devotional book that's been set aside for about a year: Charles Spurgeon's Morning by Morning.

For the past few weeks, I've felt a longing to say something. I've felt words stirring up in my heart, but they've only been fragments of thoughts; a kind of straining, a grasping, that's never become fully formed enough to write down. I think that's partly because there's been so much on my mind lately. Perspective—how to find the right one, and how to hold on to it once it's been discovered and defined. Time—how quickly it passes and the fact that, so often, the unknown future looms over my head like a dark cloud rather than a journey waiting to be taken. Truth—what (or rather Who) it is in every hot-button issue associated with these changing times.

Maybe these thoughts have remained fragments because I so rarely slow down for long enough to let them sink in and take shape. Or maybe the swirling is just a calling to look up; a reminder that I'll never uncover the answers, the direction, or the comfort I crave by looking inward. That the only true security and stability and unshakeable certainty I'll ever find is in Christ alone.

Yet this swelling in my heart remains, reminding me that there is more than what I so frequently choose to fix my eyes upon. And still I want to say something, no matter how imperfectly. The devotional I read this morning finally helped give direction to that desire.

"He is risen" (Matthew 28:6) and I am risen in Him. Then why should I cling to the dust? From lesser loves, desires, pursuits, and aspirations I desire to rise toward Him...Further and further from everything selfish, lowly, wordly, and sinful He calls me. Yes, from the outwardly religious world that does not know Him, and which has no understanding of the mystery of the higher way, He calls me. "Come with Me." The call has no harsh sound to it in my ears. Yet what is there that holds me to this wilderness of vanity and sin? —Charles Spurgeon, Morning by Morning

What a rich longing, followed by such a powerful question! I am so thankful that the Lord put these words into the heart and the pen of Charles Spurgeon. Although originally written in the year 1865, they continue to resonate so deeply.

"Come with Me," the Lord calls, and how I long to. When I'm at the summit of the word "overwhelmed," I wonder if I should go away with Him to a foreign country. I wonder if working the ground and feeding the hungry with its produce would be more worthy than working in marketing and feeding the world one more social media post. I wonder if "loving like Jesus does" would seem easier if the people I was trying to love didn't look, and talk, and think so much like me. I wonder if seeing and experiencing Hunger and Lack and Lowliness on a regular basis would break me of the cycle of consuming, accumulating, comparing, and longing for elevation.

Maybe abandoning everything I know right now and going after God and the things of Him in India or Romania or Africa would "fix me." Give me a right perspective that lasts. Slow down time to a crawl rather than a sprint. Remind me of Truth in every circumstance. But then again, maybe it wouldn't. Because deep down, I know that if I follow the call of my own feelings rather than the direction Christ is leading me toward, all I'll find at the end of the rainbow is more of myself, no matter where in the world I run to, or what holy and good endeavor I throw myself into.

"Come with Me," the Lord calls, and how I long to. To see Him right where I am, in the midst of the overwhelm and the burn-out. To fix my eyes on the eternal in the very midst of the mundane. To see and to hear and to selflessly love the culture I'm in, in the same way He has loved me. To know him as Provider and All in All and King of Kings in the midst of busyness and abundance and cell phones and schedules.

Teach me, Lord, how to "come away" with You as I stay exactly where I am.

"Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, You are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, You are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there Your hand shall lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me." Psalm 139:8-10 

"Come Away" by Bryan McCleery



Saturday, January 2, 2016

Let this be the year

I have a distinct memory of, at age 10 or so, compiling a list of every flaw that I perceived in myself and creating a plan of action to defeat those shortcomings and achieve perfection.

I have always had a deep awareness of the layers of internal filth that keep me so far from the perfection of Christ; those secret motivations of the heart that can't be scrubbed away by an outward change of behavior. I was aware of them as a little girl and I'm still confronted by them now. Like...all the time.

Going to be really transparent here: Sometimes I think I should be famous. If not famous-famous, at least recognized and admired. I take inventory of the things I've achieved and I question why I'm not succeeding in the same way so many others seem to be. I hate that I'm admitting this, but I'm specifically talking about things like follower counts and platform size, here. I hold myself up to others again and again who have had success in these arenas, and every time I do it, I lose. Either I come away from the time I've invested in comparison believing that I'm better, and go on to begrudge another's success, or I'm defeated by the belief that I'm worse, and proceed to wade around in a pool that's filled with words like inadequate, unseen, missed-your-chance, and going-nowhere-fast.

There are resolutions I could make this year that would—temporarily, at least—combat some of these icky thought patterns that kept surfacing in 2015.

I could minimize my time on Instagram.
I could delete Instagram altogether. 
I could actively practice encouraging others.

And on and on it goes.

None of these resolutions are bad. In fact, I think they're all great steps in the right direction. But I'm not sold on the idea that implementing any of them will produce a permanent fix to the heart issues the Lord is so graciously revealing in me. Creating a game plan for achieving my own perfection didn't work when I was 10. Why would it work now, at the angst-y age of 25?

I have since wept over that image of 10-year-old me, longing to go back in time to lift the head of the small blonde-headed girl leaning over her spiral journal; to tell her that while her recognition of the sin that separates her from Christ is right, her method for resolving the gap is wrong. That perfection will always and only be found in Christ alone. That the sacrifice He made is sufficient for her shortcomings of the past and the present and the future. That she can just rest in God's grace.

Instead, I'm going to give that pep talk to the 25-year-old typing on her computer, so desperate to put into words this fire that's stirring up inside. I'm telling her:

New Year's resolutions are not going to get you where you want to be in your walk with Christ, and achieving every last one of your secret hopes and dreams is not going to bring you the fulfillment you desire, either. You know this because you've experienced it. You've won the crown. You've gotten the award. You've moved to France. You've traveled the world. And it's never been enough. The truth is that you could press and you could strain, and you could work incessantly at building an empire that's centered around yourself, and you could come to the end of your life—or even just the middle of it—and realize that everything you're holding in your hands is dust and ash. The truer truth is that you're already there. So aware of the fact that your eyes are in the wrong place, your heart is in the wrong position, and that you're in danger of missing it—the life that is truly life.

That place where eyes are opened, bodies are healed, and the dead are raised—yes, even in the here and now. That place where the cry of your heart is to know Him more, and you're not afraid to throw your arms open wide in worship and be seen by others as you truly are—a broken woman saved by His grace alone, so in awe of His glory and love. That place where He says, "Go," and you respond without hesitation, unafraid to leave it all behind and step into the unknown. That place where you forsake it all for the chance to know Him more. That place where authentic, heart-rending compassion replaces every trace of comparison, where eternities are secured and present circumstances are radically changed.

I'm not making resolutions, but I am going before the Lord and asking, "Let this be the year." The year of no more numbness. No more distractions. No more blending in. No more what-ifs. No more wishing for what's real while pursuing what's false. The year that passion replaces complacency. The year that God-stories aren't for reading, but for seeing. The year that I stumble, and I fall, and I fail in the pursuit of serving my Savior, but retain the privilege of going back again and again to His well for more grace, more mercy, and just a taste of Heaven touching Earth. The year that with everything I know how to give, I seek after the Life that is truly life. The year that I realize once and for all that my own resolve to change is simply an illusion, and that the fulfillment of any and all of these things will be accomplished through His power alone, in 2016 and forevermore.  
"Instruct those who are rich in this present world not to be conceited or to fix their hope on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly supplies us with all things to enjoy. Instruct them to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share, storing up for themselves the treasure of a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is life indeed." 1 Timothy 6:17-19

"O taste and see that the LORD is good; How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him! O fear the LORD, you His saints; For to those who fear Him there is no want. The young lions do lack and suffer hunger; But they who seek the LORD shall not be in want of any good thing." Psalm 34: 8-10

Tuesday, September 22, 2015

Why I Stopped Hopping on Hashtags

Today is one of those days - the kind where it seems like the whole world is talking about something controversial, politically charged, heartbreaking, game-changing, or all of the above. Today is one of those days - the kind where hashtags are being hopped on, viral articles are being shared, viewpoints are being defended, and devil's advocate costumes are being donned. Today is one of those days - the kind where my heart yearns to say something of significance about a trending message, my soul cries out for Truth to be revealed, my eyes beg to shut out the headlines, my fingers ache to dim the bulbs of enlightenment for just a minute. And yet in this culture of social media activism, this I know: no matter which side I take or what I have to say, any words I hitch to a hashtag will ultimately become nothing more than sound bites in a cesspool. Everyone talks on social media, but does anyone really listen? Can hearts and minds and opposing viewpoints be changed if I craft the perfect counter-sentiment in 140 characters or less? More and more, social media just seems like a bunch of people jumping en masse off the proverbial bridge, silently screaming at each other as thumbs fly across iPhone keyboards all the way into the abyss. More and more, I see that labeling my heart cries with a hashtag only kindles whatever fire I'm trying to extinguish. Social media has given everyone a voice and a platform from which to share it. But in the cacophony of opinions, so often I feel that I've lost both. This thing that was meant for connectivity has turned into a pit of controversy, and we're kidding ourselves if we think much ground is going to be won in a Twitter war. So what do we - those of us who have so much to say, but seemingly nowhere safe to say it - do? Go silent? Delete our accounts? Pay to promote our own beliefs via a social media campaign, then watch in horror as the truths we hold dear are ripped to shreds by hate, vitriol, and a hefty dose of sarcasm? The Bible says the following: "Do not give what is holy to the dogs; nor cast your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn and tear you in pieces." (Matthew 7:6) I could get really arrogant and self-righteous by interpreting that verse to mean something like "I'm a pearl and they're all pigs." But y'all, God is so good. Here's what His Word says right before bringing on the bacon: "...how can you say to your brother, ‘Let me remove the speck from your eye’; and look, a plank is in your own eye? Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye." I can pour all of my passion into fighting humans on a hashtag, or I can give that passion (that angst, that righteous anger, that fill-in-the-blank) to my Heavenly Father and ask Him to equip me - despite my brokenness, my hypocrisy, and my plank eye - to love the humans who agree with me and the humans who don't in the same way that He has loved me. I can also get on my knees in prayer and ask for walls to come down. I can ask for veils to be torn. I can ask for eyes to see, ears to hear, hearts to know, minds to understand. Most importantly, I can have peace in the knowledge that I don't have to fight any battles - social media or otherwise - like a rogue soldier, all on my own. My message is His inerrant Truth and perfect Love; my platform is my salvation story and continual experience of the Lord's grace. Those are my words that matter; that is my safe place from which to share them. "Clap your hands, all you nations; shout to God with cries of joy. For the Lord Most High is awesome, the great King over all the earth." (Psalm 47, NIV)

Sunday, September 13, 2015

Introducing our brand new travel blog!

Hello friends! If you just so happened to stop by today, I hope you'll pop on over to the brand new travel blog my husband and I started together. Things have been a little quiet on this blog lately, but that doesn't mean it's going away - for now, we're just investing a lot of time and energy into work for our clients, finishing up our business site, and documenting our 2.5 month backpacking trip through Europe! Hope you'll join us.


Sunday, June 28, 2015

A Position Paper: Yes, Jesus Loves Me

Over the past few days I have seen Christianity labeled as a "hateful religion." I cannot perform religious apologetics, but I can share what I know to be true on a personal level. And that's this: When I was at my weakest, my worst, my lowest, Jesus Christ gathered me in His arms and He loved me. When I felt that my mind was decaying; when I feared that I was literally at my wits' end due to incapacitating anxiety and deep depression; when I couldn't catch a glimpse of a brighter future due to the pain of the present, He showed Himself to me. He overwhelmed me with compassion. He set my feet on the Rock (Psalm 40:1-2). He gave me a look at how He sees me. He reminded me of who I am through His Word and the words of other believers.

I have given Him imperfect love and divided attention. I have tried to earn and to prove my own righteousness; I've put my accomplishments on a pedestal and yearned for the glory that can always and only be His. I have failed and I have fallen short, but never once has He turned me away. My Father loves me. He provides for me. He protects me. He sets me free, directs my path, and despite my complete inadequacy and inability to love Him back in the way that He deserves, He calls me His beloved (Song of Solomon 6:3). This is the God I serve and desire to emulate. These are the characteristics I long to embody. I don't serve my God perfectly, but because His perfect Son took my sin on His shoulders, I get to wear Jesus' perfection (John 3:16). I am covered by it; dressed in it; arrayed in a splendor not my own (Isaiah 61:10). The only response to the love I've been shown is to give love in return, first and foremost to my God and Savior, and second, to everyone else He created. "We love because He first loved us." (1 John 4:19)

Debates and rants and questions of "why" and misunderstandings and hurtful accusations fold together into something that feels a lot like chaos, and nothing like "love winning" anything at all. God is Love, and furthermore, He is Light—"in Him there is no darkness at all." (1 John 1:5) I pray that His light shines through me, emboldens me, and attracts others to the God I serve rather than turning them away. I cannot speak to the grossly inappropriate presence of hatred in various forms throughout the history of institutionalized Christianity, but I can confidently proclaim that hate has no place in the relationship I've found with Jesus Christ, and will have no place in me as I continue to serve Him through and in and during whatever lies ahead.

. . .
Psalm 40:1-2 "I waited patiently for the Lord; He inclined to me and heard my cry. He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure." 

Song of Solomon 6:3 "I am my beloved's and my beloved is mine; he browses among the lilies."

John 3:16 "For God so loved the world, that He gave his only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life."

Isaiah 61:10 "I will greatly rejoice in the Lord; my soul shall exult in my God, for He has clothed me with the garments of salvation; He has covered me with the robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom decks himself like a priest with a beautiful headdress, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels."

1 John 4:18-19 "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because He first loved us."

1 John 1:5 "This is the message we have heard from Him and proclaim to you, that God is light, and in Him is no darkness at all."

Monday, June 1, 2015

Another Ending to the Story

While scrolling through social media yesterday, I came across a story about social media. Not "How to Use Instagram to your Best Advantage" or "Build a Bigger (and bigger, and bigger) Following With These Five Tricks," but "Split Image"—the story of a star athlete who portrayed a perfect life on Instagram, but internally struggled with anxiety and depression so deep that, eventually, she took her own life. A friend had tweeted a link to an associated video interview with the following endorsement: "This is the most important thing you'll see today." I clicked.

He was right. It was important for me to hear and to read Madison's story, mainly because it could have been my own. In the article, Madison is described like this:

"Madison was beautiful, talented, successful—very nearly the epitome of what every young girl is supposed to hope she becomes. But she was also a perfectionist who struggled when she performed poorly. She was a deep thinker, someone who was aware of the image she presented to the world, and someone who often struggled with what that image conveyed about her, with how people superficially read who she was, what her life was like."

Instagram wasn't around during my freshman year of college, but Facebook was. I remember uploading entire albums of photos that showcased the glamour and excitement of my new life in California. Edited pictures on the beaches of Malibu, dinner at Geisha House (Ashton Kutcher's restaurant!) in LA, walking with friends along Hollywood Boulevard. I looked so happy. But I was functioning like a shell, or a robot. Completely numb, going through the motions without emotion. I was achieving and interacting, but doing so was like an out-of-body experience. Because despite the images I was showcasing and the things I was doing, I was shouldering a debilitating load of anxiety and—although I didn't know it until a year later, when I finally opened up and told someone that something wasn't right—depression.

During that time, I remember feeling that it was a victory if I could claim even three seconds of mental peace without a searing thought burying into my mind and forcing me back into a cycle of irrational fear. I was sure that I was broken, that I was losing it, that no one had ever been through what I was going through, that everyone else was happy and healthy but me, and that no one would love me if they really knew what I was going through. I called my mom one day and told her I wanted to die. Not that I wanted to take my own life, but that I just didn't want to live anymore if this was who I really was. I told her I thought I had a brain tumor, and that I hoped I did. It would at least be an explanation for the mental anguish I was living with day after day after day after day.

That summer when I came home from college, I went to the doctor to prove to myself that I actually did have a brain tumor. Instead, I came home with a diagnosis of depression. In the state I was in, that felt even worse. I had no explanation for the torment I was living under other than my own mental weakness—or at least that's what I thought at the time. Like Madison, I said to my parents, "I just want to sleep."

And I did. For 14, 16 hours a day sometimes. For a season, it's like my body shut down to protect me from my own mind. But then, slowly, three seconds of mental peace became three minutes. Three days. Three months. I went to counseling and I didn't stop. I opened up about the depth of my pain and confusion, my sorrow over the fact that my "perfect life" had disintegrated so suddenly. I talked to my parents, to pastors, to my sorority. I told people that everything wasn't okay, that I needed prayer. Even still, I didn't understand the shapes my anxiety took for a long, long time—it took the personal, healing touch of Jesus Christ on my life to show me once and for all who I was again, and that didn't happen until almost three years after the whole thing first began. 

Oh, those three years of waiting for complete healing were hard. They were isolating, and dark, and confusing, and terrible despite the good things that still continued to happen all around me. I wouldn't want to go back to that place, not ever. But praise be to God, I don't dwell there anymore. And praise be to God, I can talk about those years without fear anymore! As I read Madison's story yesterday, I wanted to shout these truths from the first available rooftop! I wanted to hold this precious girl in my arms and tell her, "Listen, take it from someone who has been there. Our identity is in His righteousness, not our perfection. We will get through this. We will feel again, we will love, we will get married, we will go on new adventures. We will wake up without heaviness, without fear of fear. Our battle with anxiety and depression wasn't an internal weakness, but an external battle against the enemy of our souls who wants to steal, kill, and destroy. We have something to keep living for. We have Someone to keep living for."

I wanted to tell her all of these things, but it's too late for me to reach her. So I say it and share it with anyone else who might come across these words—all these dark things that I sometimes want to pretend never existed at all, because I can't feel them anymore. I dig into the old pain and share it because of this:

"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God." 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

I have received this comfort! This life-giving, life-sustaining comfort! And so how can I hold it in, keep it to myself? I have to extend it, have to tell all about it, have to let others know that there is hope and healing and fulfillment of promises; that the darkest night masquerading as an ending can truly be the very beginning of the best part of the story.

"We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on GOD, who raises the dead. He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us." 2 Corinthians 1:8-10

There is freedom! There is life lived abundantly! There is constant and continual Love, despite what we've seen, known, experienced, thought, feared!

"Who are you...that you live in constant terror every day because of the wrath of the oppressor, who is bent on destruction? For where is the wrath of the oppressor? The cowering prisoners will soon be set free; they will not die in their dungeon, nor will they lack bread." Isaiah 51:12-14 

I share Madison's story in part, but my battle with anxiety and depression has another ending. If you're there today; if any part of you can relate to looking like you have it all together but feeling broken inside, I charge you with this: Don't give up. Don't keep it all in. Don't pretend everything is okay. Don't stop asking for a healing touch, or waiting on the Lord's promise of deliverance. He will come through not because that's what He does, but because that's who He is.

"If I should say, 'My foot has slipped,' Your lovingkindness, O LORD, will hold me up. When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul." Psalm 94:18-19


Karley with a K. Todos los derechos reservados. © Maira Gall.