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

More Than Enough

I struggle with the word “enough” because I don’t feel like I have it. I don’t have enough time to accomplish everything on my to-do list. I don’t have enough energy to make dinner after working all day. I don’t have enough motivation to go on a run. I don’t have enough creativity left in the tank to paint. I don’t have enough care for the concerns of other people. I don’t have enough emotional capacity to meet the needs of my husband. I don’t have enough direction to create a five-year plan. I could go on (and on), but that’s enough “enough” to make my point.

When I read these words back to myself I feel full of lack and emptied of drive, drawn to identify with phrases like “Give up” and “Quit trying.” Am I the only one who’s been there before? Am I the only one that continues to dive into those dangerous waters today, despite the goodness and the grace that my Father has lavished upon me?

We live in an unprecedented time of comparison. The magazine ads and the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Shows and the “I only wear mascara and Chapstick to look this good” celebrity interviews are still out there, and they can still trigger feelings of inadequacy. But now we’re competing with other “everyday” people whose “everyday” experiences look like a homemade soufflé and a line of paper goods and a c/o designer handbag and a Starbucks cup held up in front of the Eiffel Tower, probably with a fashionable baby somewhere in the mix. Now we’re not just keeping up with Susan Jones—we’re peering into her Pinterest-perfect backyard barbeque that’s decorated with stringer lights and mix-n-match Kate Spade dinnerware. Now we’re longing for another woman’s life as portrayed on her Instagram feed, battling doubt and despair and the pang of a deep heart hunger.

It’s hard to handle the pressures of work and home and life, and it’s even harder when you feel like you have to post an effortlessly-chic photo of yourself while doing so. I want to crawl into a hole sometimes when I look at a photo of a gorgeously uncluttered desk with an open planner and a steaming cup of coffee held by a manicured hand, topped off with a caption that says, “Let’s do this, Monday!” Because meanwhile, I’m sitting at a desk overflowing with papers, no makeup on, probably not even wearing a bra yet, and carrying the load of so much carry-over work from last Friday that I just want to scream, “Where are you, weekend?”

I know that sounds like I’m jealous, and that’s probably because a lot of times I am. I crave that feeling of having it all under control that it looks like so many other women are able to attain…at least on social media. Does anybody feel me on this? When my scrolling thumb gets out of control, I start to drown. When I read my Twitter feed more regularly than the Word of God, I start to lose perspective. I start to feel like I’m just not enough. That I never will be.

In a way, I’m right—my inability to meet the needs of myself and others has proven that I am not enough. But I do have Enough. I have the One who can meet every need, every heart’s cry, and every desire of every person on the planet. The One who whispers in my ear that I am seen and known and fully loved, anyway. The One who has picked me up and carried me when I have fallen, who has given me my identity, who has set my feet on a Rock, who has told me to fix my eyes on Him and not on everyone and everything else that’s swirling around me. The One who says, “…fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen and help you, I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.” (Is. 41:10) The One who has “dealt bountifully” with me, who has “delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling” that I may “walk before the Lord in the land of the living.” (Ps. 116:7-9)

Jesus says, “Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” (Matt. 8:28) Rest. It’s available. But I won’t find it by staring at a list of things I haven’t accomplished, or counting the number of unanswered emails in my inbox, or dwelling on my performance or appearance or reputation. I find it by coming to Him.

I relate to David when he says, “You, God, are my God, earnestly I seek You; I thirst for You, my whole being longs for You, in a dry and parched land where there is no water.” (Ps. 63:1) This is what the combination of heart hunger and soul thirst feels like. And here’s what it looks like to be filled; to have Enough:

“I have seen You in the sanctuary and beheld Your power and Your glory. Because Your love is better than life, my lips will glorify You. I will praise You as long as I live, and in Your name I will lift up my hands. I will be fully satisfied as with the richest of foods; with singing lips my mouth will praise You. On my bed I remember You; I think of You through the watches of the night. Because You are my help, I sing in the shadow of Your wings. I cling to You; Your right hand upholds me.” (Ps. 63:2-8)

I have a new name for Jesus; for who I am fighting for Him to be in my life from this day forward. He is More Than Enough for me.

Vicarious Victories

I didn't expect to have a God appointment on Saturday morning. I thought I was just going to brunch with a Miss Texas friend and a fashion blogger I met through Instagram—and I dressed accordingly.

Black Audrey Hepburn flats. Leopard-print shorts. Graphic tee from France featuring Batman and a ton of sequins.

Just trust me...it matches.

"Is that what you're wearing?" my husband asked. Not in a mean way. More of a "Hmm...interesting combo" -type thing.

I knew it was funky, but that was the point. I was meeting a FASHION BLOGGER (given name Chelsie). And a MISS TEXAS friend (otherwise known as Michelle). I knew they would both be wearing something completely amazing, and I wanted to make a good impression too. (What if they like my outfit so much they decide to blog about it?? Real thought.)

Within about 10 seconds of meeting up on the porch of the Company Cafe on Katy Trail, all of that pretense fell away. Spiritual conversation and mutual encouragement flowed easily between all three of us, allowing real things to take the place of first impression smiles and isn't-the-weather-so-great commentary.

"Coming from the industry I'm in, I should hate both of you," Chelsie said matter-of-factly.

And I thought, wow. Isn't that the truth?

In addition to being a fashion blogger, Chelsie is a celebrity makeup artist who flies that super-slick route between LA and New York. Michelle is the Director of Leadership Giving for United Way of Metropolitan Dallas and an all-around mover-and-shaker. We all feel that our callings have to do with writing, speaking, and generally making a global impact (obviously we're all fans of the slogan "dream big").

We should have been competing for the spotlight. Because only one woman can shine, right? That's what our culture says. Only one woman can rise to the top. Only one woman can have the most fans, the greatest circle of influence, the highest number of followers on Twitter and Instagram. Only one woman can wear the most put-together outfit, lay claim to the most impressive resume, and literally sweat glitter at the gym because she's THAT fabulous.

Those are all lies, of course. But ladies, don't our feelings and attitudes toward other women often reflect those dangerous sentiments?

We can't praise the achievement of another woman—that might diminish our own accomplishments. We can't applaud another woman's victory—that might make us seem defeated. We can't encourage another woman to pursue her dreams—our own ambitions might begin to pale in comparison. Most importantly, we can't celebrate with another woman when God has elevated her position, given her a platform, equipped her for ministry, blessed her beyond measure, and allowed His face to shine upon her—that would make us seem low, rejected, ill-equipped, overlooked, and completely insignificant.

Or would it?

. . .

"Yet the Spirit also rested on [Eldad and Medad], and they prophesied in the camp...Joshua son of Nun, who had been Moses' aide since youth, spoke up and said, 'Moses, my lord, stop them!' But Moses replied, 'Are you jealous for my sake? I wish that all the LORD's people were prophets and that the LORD would put His Spirit on them!' " —Numbers 11:26-30

Prior to this interaction, Moses had expressed to the Lord that he was tired, frustrated, and just plain over it. The Israelites wouldn't stop complaining—this time, it was about meat. Meat this, meat that. We hate manna. Manna is gross. For Moses, enough was enough.

"What have I done to displease You that You put the burden of all these people on me? Did I conceive all these people? Did I give them birth? Why do You tell me to carry them in my arms, as a nurse carries an infant...?" —Numbers 11:11-12

"It's too much, God," Moses basically goes on to say. "I need a little help here." And in His graciousness, God responds by anointing 70 Israelite elders with the Spirit to help Moses shoulder the weight of his calling.

"...I will take the Spirit that is on you and put the Spirit on them. They will help you carry the burden of the people so that you will not have to carry it alone." —Numbers 11:17

That's when Joshua freaks out. "Moses, you're the star!" he says (kind of). "If all of these guys start prophesying and get filled with the Spirit, you won't be special anymore. You should not be on board with this—tell them to cut it out!"

Oh, that I would respond to the favor of others with the humility of Moses.

"I wish that all the Lord's people were prophets," he says.

"I wish that all the Lord's people might experience intimacy with Christ, and global impact, and success, and television interviews, and Instagram followers, and blessings, and favor,"  I want to say.

Moses understood that God was God, and he was not. Moses understood that there was enough of God to go around. Moses understood that God's glory, and not his own, was paramount. Moses understood that his status in the Kingdom was not measured against the status of others. Moses understood that the empowerment of others would not pose a threat to or chip away at his own significance. Moses understood that he could no longer shoulder the burden of leadership alone, but that he in fact needed the Lord to equip other people in order to walk out his own calling.

. . .

I don't know about you, but when I'm experiencing a mountain-top moment I don't want to be alone. I want others to join around me in celebration of what the Lord has done. And because of that, I must learn how to celebrate others in kind.

Here's the truth: When we begrudge, envy, and/or resent the success of others, we only deplete ourselves of the energy it takes to pursue our own calling. But when we applaud and affirm the success of others? We share in their joy, are mutually encouraged, and vicariously victorious.

Who can you applaud today?

Washed in the blood

I have been a Christian since I was seven years old, but I am just now in the process of reading the Bible all the way through. This is embarrassing for two reasons:

1. My husband has already done it twice.

2. People around the world are literally killed just for owning a Bible, and yet they continue to put their lives on the line to get a copy because they understand this truth: The Word of God is Life.

If anyone else feels like joining me on this journey, you'll be able to catch up pretty easily—I am currently in Leviticus. You should know, though, that this is a hard chapter. There is a lot of repetition, so it can be easy to "zone out." But I've heard pastors say that Jesus can (metaphorically) be found on every page of the Bible if you look closely enough, and so that's what I've been trying to do. Look for Jesus. 

Today, I caught a glimpse of Him.

"Then Moses took some of the anointing oil and some of the blood from the altar and sprinkled them on Aaron and his garments and on his sons and their garments. So he consecrated Aaron and his garments and his sons and their garments." —Leviticus 8:30

My first thought when reading this was, "Okay, he just ruined their clothes." And these were some EXPENSIVE clothes. Check out these descriptions (all from Exodus 39):

"From the blue, purple and scarlet yarn they made woven garments for ministering in the sanctuary."

"They hammered out thin sheets of gold and cut strands to be worked into the [cloth]."

"They mounted onyx stones in gold filigree settings and engraved them like a seal with the names of the sons of Israel."

"They fashioned the breastpiece...then they mounted four rows of precious stones on it. In the first row there was a ruby, a topaz and a beryl; in the second row a turquoise, a sapphire and an emerald..."

The list just goes on from there. Jewels and gemstones. Fine linen and richly-dyed yarn. Chains and bells of gold. Intricately stitched pomegranates. How could Moses stain those beautiful outfits with spots of blood?

That's when I saw Jesus. That's when I remembered His blood, which was shed for me. That's when I realized that the garments worn by Aaron and his sons were not made beautiful and pure by their outward adornment but by the blood stains, which signified that the Lord had consecrated them and made atonement for their sins.

I have fought hard to prove my own purity in the past. I have scrubbed my clothes, wiped myself clean, Windex’d the walls of my heart and prayed that God would find me worthy. How did I miss the Truth that my purity has nothing to do with manufactured coverings of my own design, and everything to do with the bloodstains of my Savior—the Living Sacrifice that made atonement for my sins once and for all? The cross has made me clean, and nothing else. I must be washed in crimson to wear garments that are white as snow—bleach and soap and good works and righteous acts have nothing to do with it whatsoever. 

Without the bloodstains, we're just wearing clothes. When we're washed in the blood, we're clothed in garments of His righteousness. 

"I delight greatly in the LORD; my soul rejoices in my God. For He has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of his righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels."—Isaiah 61:10