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

The Best Place to Be

Ill-equipped. Under-prepared. Lacking confidence. Unsure.

This doesn't sound like the best place to be. And yet, so often, I've found that it's exactly where I am and how I feel when God is about to move in ways that surpass everything I could ask for or imagine (Eph. 3:20-21).
 
I think Joseph could probably relate. He was thrown into a pit and left for dead because his brothers were jealous of the favor their father had shown him. Then he was picked up like garbage and sold into slavery. I don't know about you, but that would shake me up. Cause me to question a few things. Like, everything.

Joseph could have given himself up for dead; he could have doubted his abilities and his dreams and his identity and the truth of the love he'd known while in his father's household. And yet, Joseph proceeded to become one of the highest ranking officials in all of Egypt. Did He face continued challenges? Yes. But was he ever abandoned? No. He stepped into the calling the Lord placed upon his life, and the Lord delivered him and equipped him and blessed him and set his feet upon a rock again and again and again. (Full story here.)

I haven't done a scientific study on this or anything, but based on experience, being the best, knowing it all, having the right connections, and overflowing with confidence are not necessarily prerequisites to or indicators of success. Almost every time the Lord has done something incredible in my life, I've entered into His calling with fear and trembling. And not the holy kind. More like the "I have no idea what I'm doing/What if I made a mistake/Did I hear Him wrong/Is something bad going to happen?" kind of trembling that makes you want to quit the game and wash your hands and throw in the towel and all-those-other-cliches that are basically just temptations to give up on living the life that is truly life.

But here's the truth: the Lord is not limited by our abilities, experience, courage, aptitude, or lack thereof. In fact, I believe that He works best when we're at our weakest—there's more room for His glory to shine because we KNOW we can't take credit for what He has accomplished. Walking in the unknown forces us to rely on His lead. Stepping into a position that's above our experience-level demolishes pride. Not having all the answers requires us to throw our cares and concerns and questions upon His throne.

If I had given in to fear and doubt, I probably wouldn't have moved to France, started my first job, left that job to marry my husband and start a business together, published a book, and so on and so on. I would have missed out on a lot of great experiences. More than that, however, I would have missed out on living life to the fullest. Hearing my Savior's voice. Relying on Him alone. Seeing Him come through in ways that can only be defined as miraculous. Walking on the heights and knowing it's by the power of Jesus Christ alone that I've been placed there. 

beausoleil, france

You and I won't always be the most equipped. We might not have the "right" degree or the necessary connections. We might not be the best one on the team. We might sweat until our skin turns into a salt lick and shake all the way down to our toes as we step up to the plate, but if God is for us, then truly...who can be against us? (Romans 8:31)

My husband always says that if one decision requires faith and the other doesn't, we should always move in the direction of faith. I couldn't agree more. I also say that if we're tempted to pass on an opportunity due to fear (of failure, of inadequacy, of not measuring up, or of whatever), we should probably shout "Cannonball!" and make a splash into the unknown.

. . .

"The LORD himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged." Deuteronomy 31:8

"For not in my bow do I trust, nor can my sword save me. But You have saved us from our foes...In God we have boasted continually, and we will give thanks to Your name forever." Psalm 44:6-8

Marriage Monday: Five Things I'm Glad I Did Before Getting Married

I got married two weeks after turning 23. I get that to a lot of people (like, everyone living in a non-southern state), that probably sounds really young. For me, however, the timing felt just right.

First and foremost, our confidence in proceeding with a Hitched in a Hurry wedding came from the Lord, who gets full credit for bringing Taylor and I together as lifelong teammates in pursuit of Him. When I look in the rearview mirror, however, I’m also reminded of a series of experiences that helped me transition from single woman to wife with as little regret as possible. Don’t get me wrong: I’m not saying that because I did these things on my own, the Lord rewarded me with a husband. These are just adventures and decision-points that, on a practical level, helped me enter marriage without fear of “missing out.”

So without further chit chat, let’s get to today’s #marriagemonday topic!

. . . 

FIVE THINGS I'M GLAD I DID BEFORE GETTING MARRIED

5. Traveled 

A few months after graduating from college, I jumped on an opportunity to move to Southern France and work as an au pair. While I’m looking forward to doing more traveling with my husband in the future, I’m also very grateful for the time I spent exploring Europe tout seul. Traveling literally opens your eyes to another world. It also helps you become aware of the fact that 1. Your perspective is not the only one in existence. 2. There’s a lot of stuff you don’t know. 3. Shocker! You’re not necessarily always right. These are all great lessons to learn before entering into a marriage relationship. Merci beaucoup, passport!

4. Got a Big Girl Job

Working full-time as a single woman provided me with real-world experience that I wouldn’t trade for anything. I learned to manage a busy schedule, set priorities, budget and make financial decisions, pay bills in a timely manner, live in and maintain my own place, and consider and evaluate my long-term goals. All of these things helped me grow into adulthood and out of a state of child-like dependency (and the cocoon of college).

On the job interviewing the one and only Austin Scarlett

 3. Tried Random Things

Competing at Miss Texas was random, y’all. And I am SO glad that I tried it before getting married. I got to wear a crown and sash, speak to students, do the pageant wave in a parade, get spray tans on a regular basis, perform a talent routine in front of hundreds of people, and answer the question, “I wonder what would happen if ... ?” Pageantry was a brief adventure that was all my own. I don’t ever have to wonder now if I could have been Miss America, because I already tried. Professional conferences, art shows, and writing competitions were also among the random things I tried as a single woman. So, checking things off the solo bucket list before marriage? A definite Do-Before-“I do” in my book. 

Post-presentation, we're ALL doing the pageant wave

2. Dated + Waited

I learned so much about what I was looking for—and not looking for—in a marriage relationship by being in more temporal dating relationships. That being said, this is an area that, in my opinion, deserves a “proceed with caution” sign. I’m going to skip through a lot of vague purity lingo here (which we’ll dissect in another post) and just say it like it is: I did not have sex before marriage, and it’s the best decision I made as a single woman. While sex frequently gets a bad rap in the church—associated with words like dangerous, wrong, dirty, and/or sinful—the reality is that having sex in the right context (that’s marriage) is safe, right, pure, holy, fun, and an integral part of building emotional intimacy. Did I date perfectly? No. But I did frequently remind myself that my husband was out there, which encouraged me to reserve as much of my body and heart as possible for him. If you’re considering waiting to have sex until marriage—or recommitting to physical purity in a current relationship—but are not sure that the benefits will outweigh the temporary cost, I encourage you to think toward the future with excitement and reserve what’s secret and sacred and sexual for your spouse only. The ups and downs of dating and the temptations and frustrations of waiting are worth it. More importantly, YOU are worth it. You are beautiful and loved and cherished. Remind yourself of that truth today … and every time you go out on a not-so-incredible blind date. 

1. Followed Jesus 

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.”

This is a misunderstood verse, I think—especially when it comes to relational desires. It’s easy to read Psalm 37:4 as an “if-then” equation. In the context of this discussion, here’s what that would look like: “If I can just be satisfied in Jesus, then I’ll get a husband.” Here’s how I started reading this verse as a single woman, and how I’m still learning to take hold of its truth now that I’m married:

Go where He’s leading—whether it’s to France to work as an au pair, or to a desk job in a high-rise building, or under the lights of the Miss Texas stage, or on a date set up by a friend, or all of the above—and trust that He will bring the right person into your life at the right time, no manufacturing required. Seek His face. From experience, you don’t have to see where everything’s going in order for His design to be accomplished. You don’t have to convince your heart that it doesn’t want to be married in hopes that, by some act of spiritual reverse psychology, God will finally give you what you’re pretending you don’t even want anymore. And you definitely don’t have to achieve perfection in order for your prayers to be answered or your needs to be met.

 

 Being single is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to learn what it means to delight in the Lord and grow in your intimacy with Him. It’s one-on-one time that allows for serious heart-rendering and wall-breaking and freedom-setting. It’s also important to note that marriage does not bring wholeness or complete satisfaction. That’s why it’s so extraordinarily important for all of us—whether “taken” or single, married or unmarried, sick or healthy, in good times or in bad—to come to a place where He becomes the desire of our hearts. Just Him. Not the things or the people or the relationship status He can bring to us. It’s difficult to say this as a newlywed, but I know that it’s true: all earthly relationships—even the best ones, like Christ-centered marriages—will pass away. The relationship I have with my Savior, however, will never end. That’s one of many reasons why, whether single or married, He deserves my first love and my first attentions. I’m thankful for the work the Lord began in my life as a single woman, and I pray that He will continue to work out His will in my life until I am old and gray and can’t remember anything but the all-surpassing love of the Father—the One who loved me first, last, and best. 

. . .

The point of this list: Being “ready for marriage” has nothing to do with the date on your birth certificate, the experiences under your belt, or the accomplishments on your résumé. It has everything to do with following the Lord’s unique plan for your life and saying “yes” to His calling.

“Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; He’s the one who will keep you on track.” Proverbs 3:5-6, MSG

What's your filter?

I have a love-hate relationship with social media. Instagram in particular at the moment, although Facebook and Twitter and blogging certainly factor into my feelings as well.

I've had it up to here—imagine my arms raised as high as they'll go above my head—with Instagram filters. I'm thinking in particular of the ones that give that white-washed look to everything. The ones that makes everything look light and bright. That morph the colors of flowers into hues richer than those found in nature; that turn blemishes and pores and skin into stark, featureless planes that used to look like faces.

I am tired of looking at gorgeously plated food with slices of strawberries scattered around the edges of a Pottery Barn plate to give the image an artistic, undone appeal. I am tired of seeing gallery walls arranged over desks with just the right amount of clutter—enough to make the desk owner look chic and busy, but not enough to make her seem messy and unorganized. I'm tired of lusting after kitchens without anything on the counter tops.

Mostly, I'm just tired of perfect. Tired of looking at it? Absolutely. Tired of trying to achieve it in my own life...and on my own Instagram account? Even more so.

There is no Instagram filter for life. There is sharp sunlight and there are deep shadows, with no friendly Valencia to balance everything out. We have to experience it, whatever "it" is. The realness. The unflattering angles. The true colors. The way that everything actually is, rather than the way we wish it could be.

These are questions for me and for you: When are we going to stop trying to arrange everything? When are we going to stop taking pictures of our food and just eat it already? When are we going to have a great hair day and enjoy feeling beautiful without taking a selfie? When are we going to go on dates with our husbands and just hold hands instead of holding an iPhone to document every tender glance, every lingering touch...all those things that used to be personal, just between the two of us? When are we going to turn the flash off, take away the props, and let things be the way they really are? When are we going to stop obsessing over aesthetics?

Real life has nothing to do with how things look.

FYI, we got into a random fight right after this picture was taken. I should have put my phone down and focused on making up with my husband, but I was too distracted with trying to select the perfect filter for our perfect Fourth of July Instagram post. I made the mistake of investing energy in fixing the way we looked, rather than fixing the problem between us. I posted the picture (like, while I was in the middle of being angry). Why? Because the lighting is pretty. Because we look so happy. Because my eyes look really blue. And because no matter how hard I try to fight it, there's a disconnect between my reality and the online personality I'm willing to show others.

There's falsehood in social media. Never forget that. Everyone holds back the things they don't want to be seen, and promotes the things that they do.

Here's what life really looks like this morning, without a filter. This is what I'm promoting today. Will I always promote this? No. I'm an artist and a creative. I love pretty things as much as the next girl. I enjoy bright colors, I love plating pretty dinners, I like taking cute pictures with my husband, and I think it's fun to document our travels and adventures together. I'll keep doing that, and I'll probably keep "liking" pictures of beautifully stacked donuts displayed in front of clean, white backdrops too. But I'm going to fight even harder for balance and perspective and realness. I'm going to start seeing Instagram as more of an art form, and less of a snapshot of "real" life.

Final thought: I think we're so attracted to Instagram and its filters because we long for perfection and cleanness. But no Mayfair or Rise or Hudson or Walden will ever give us the inner purity we crave. They can only mask the dirtiness and the rough edges of life. True transformation comes from Jesus Christ, the Author and Perfecter of our faith, and our souls, and our life. He's the One who gives us purpose. He's the One who makes us whole. He's the One who makes things right, and new, and clean, and bright.

Filter your world through Him, and I promise: things will start to look a whole lot better...only this time, from the inside out.

"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God." Hebrews 12:2

Becoming Evergreen

A verse has been reoccurring in my life lately, and whenever that happens I know it's not a coincidence. It's more of a flashing sign printed with the words, "Hey, look at me," "No seriously, pay attention," or some other variation of that theme.

Here's part one of my Stop, Look, and Listen verse (as it turns out, those aren't just instructions for elementary school students crossing the street):

"This is what the LORD says: Cursed is the one who trusts in man, who depends on flesh for his strength and whose heart turns away from the LORD. He will be like a bush in the wastelands; he will not see prosperity when it comes. He will dwell in the parched places of the desert, in a salt land where no one lives." Jeremiah 17:5-6

I have been a desert-dwelling shrub many times in my life, and pain has always been my excuse. I've written before about battling fear from an early age, but during my senior year of high school, I went through a fire of accusation that spun my life completely out of control and took my battle with fear to a whole new level. I remember feeling torn apart by anxiety, pinned to the ground by pain, so heavy with helplessness that I couldn't see straight or remember what was true. When I went to college I didn't want anyone to see the ugliness of those wounds, and I was beyond tired of thinking about them. So I stuffed the pain...which only made it fester and grow until I felt all but consumed by a sadness I couldn't fully understand, and still have difficulty putting into words.

Although you and I have most likely not experienced the exact same set of painful circumstances, we all know what it means to be hurt. And, no matter what person or set of circumstances is responsible for inflicting the various wounds we carry, we have all probably responded with words of resolve similar to these: "Never again."

Never again will I let that person do that to me. Never again will I allow myself to be treated that way. Never again will I let my guard down. Never again will I put my heart out there only to see it cast aside. Never again will I open myself up to embarrassment. Never again will I risk failure. 

Never again will I be out of control.

Because of my background and my story, I have this desire to see exactly how everything is going to turn out, to know exactly where everything is going. If I can't, my general response is fear and worry—as though playing "What if?" scenarios in my mind over and over again will prepare me for every possible outcome so that I can never, ever, ever be caught off guard by a surprise attack again.

So yes, I understand well what it means to "depend on [my own] flesh for [my] strength" by attempting to control the circumstances around me. And because of that, I have often found myself in the middle of blessings bigger than I could have ever imagined, yet failing to "see prosperity" because I'm too busy worrying about what might happen if those blessings are suddenly taken away.

But here is part two of the verse, which by the grace of God, is what I know I am becoming:

"But blessed is the man who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in Him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit." Jeremiah 17:7-8

Found this tucked-away stream while living in France. I'd like to put down my roots here, please.

Blessed am I when I'm in the middle of a battle I didn't see coming, or standing at the edge of an adventure I don't feel quite prepared for, or straining to control a future I'll never be able to foresee, and I choose to draw all of my confidence from the reservoir of my unchanging Savior rather than the ever-changing circumstances around me.

Blessed am I when instead of constantly looking over my shoulder to prepare for attack, I choose to send my roots even deeper into the stream of Living Water and trust that "my God will supply all [my] needs from His glorious riches, which have been given to [me] in Christ Jesus" (Phil. 4:19).

Blessed am I when even in the midst of pain—the kind I said I'd never make it through alive again—when even then, I remain steadfast in my trust. When even then, I refuse to fear. When even then, I believe that the Lord will bring beauty from ashes. When even then, I realize that my leaves are green and my branches are bearing fruit not because of the perfection of my circumstances, but because of the perfection of the God who "causes everything to work together for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28).

I want my eyes to be open to see prosperity when it comes. I don't want to miss the good thing He is doing by worrying about that good thing slipping through my fingers. I don't want to live in a desert of isolation, a captive of fear in that "salt land where no one lives." I want to be an evergreen, fully at peace and bearing fruit no matter where I'm planted or what the weather forecast says.

Join me today on a journey of trust—let's watch and wait and see what our God will do.

I have decided

My junior year of college, my New Year's resolution was to talk about others less. That same semester I began interning for US Weekly magazine, a publication based entirely upon celebrity gossip.

Whether that was an example of irony, a test of faith, or both, I don't know. But I do know that making and keeping New Year's resolutions can be really, really hard.

Which is why this year, I spent a few extra days thinking about the kind of commitment I wanted to make. My first thought was this:

I will be more selfless. 

That sounded great—noble, actually—until I realized that even the word "selfless" does not omit "self." So I revised my resolution:

I will be less.

But then I realized that my resolution to "be less" still began with me. "I" will do this. "I" will be that. So finally, I landed on this:

He will become greater.

The fact that it took three attempts to seat the Lord before myself is proof that "He will become greater" is a necessary and vital resolution. You see, I am tired of thinking this life is about me.

I am tired of accumulating experiences, of treasuring affirmation, of consuming compliments.

I am tired of forgetting to be overwhelmingly grateful for the food on my table, the warmth of my bed, the love of my family.

I am tired of thinking constantly about how to elevate myself, gain exposure, showcase my talents.

I am tired of meeting someone new and forgetting their name because I was too focused on saying my own.

I am tired of seeking comfort, tired of wondering how far His provision will extend, tired of looking back and wondering, tired of looking ahead and fearing.

I am tired of watching as we, the church, fail to identify sin as sin under the pretense of "accepting others."

I am tired of watching the enemy siphon away joy, and hope, and life from believers and non-believers alike. 

I'm tired of sitting in church and seeking a feeling, tired of closing my eyes to the fact the Lord called all believers, even me, even us, to leave everything to follow Him.

I am tired of censoring myself, wondering if I'll lose or offend friends, or readers, or fans, or whatever, by "talking about Jesus too much."

I am tired of measuring success by the standards of the world.

I am tired of comparing my walk, my spirituality, my experience with God against the walk, spirituality, and experience of other believers.

I am tired of I.

After all, I cannot fix, manage, or carry the weight of any of these things. But He can. So I have decided to follow Jesus. Not for this day, not for this year. Forever.

. . .

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders / Let me walk upon the waters / Wherever You would call me — "Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)" by Hillsong

I love to sing the words to this song. They stir me up. They make me feel alive. These words are what I long for.

At this moment, however, I'd say that my trust extends about as far from my body as a hula hoop. Yet I celebrate, because for me that is huge, astounding growth from where I've been in the past.

In March of last year, I quit my full-time job as a society columnist and staff writer for People Newspapers, which is owned by D Magazine. That job was hard, but let me tell you, it sounded really glamorous when I told people about it. People were impressed by the places I was going and the people I was meeting. And to be honest, I loved that.

When I quit, people wanted to know why. Most times I said, "Because I'm getting married and I need time to plan, plus we might be moving to North Carolina."

I don't know why I settled for saying that. I mean it was true, but it wasn't the whole story. The rest of the story was that God had called me to leave that job. On a plane back from North Carolina, He lovingly, gently asked me to use my words and my writing and my time to say things that matter. To talk about Him. To bring life. To proclaim the freedom I've found in Him. To say goodbye to fluff, to status, to position, and to wholeheartedly seek to bring Him glory.

I have not done this perfectly. Not even close. I have not been spared from moments of pain, or doubt, or human weakness. But I have witnessed His constant flow of provision, and as He has become greater in my life, my hula hoop of trust has finally started to expand.

Here is a testimony: Since quitting my full-time job, I have never been without a freelance project. Never. I have not sought these projects out—the Lord has provided them, and He has done so more abundantly than I could have asked or imagined. Not because I am special or talented. Because that is who He is.

Because that's who He is, I know that one day my trust will be the size of a field, allowing me to lie down in the Lord's promised green pastures without fearing I'll be attacked while resting. One day my trust will be the size of a country, allowing me to move and go and see and find that I am "home," no matter what state I'm in. One day my trust will be the size of the world, equipping me to love as He has loved me without wondering what I'll get in return, or who will notice or praise my efforts. One day, when both the pain and the pleasure of this life have ended; when feelings of sadness and joy have faded away; when the exhilaration of adventure and the light and momentary struggles of this world are behind me; when I'm standing at the feet of Jesus, my trust will finally, finally be without borders. Limitless and infinite in the presence of my Limitless and Infinite Savior.
 

Until then,

I have decided to follow Jesus;

I have decided to follow Jesus;

I have decided to follow Jesus;

No turning back, no turning back.

Though I may wonder, I still will follow;

Though I may wonder, I still will follow;

Though I may wonder, I still will follow;

No turning back, no turning back.

The world behind me, the cross before me;

The world behind me, the cross before me;

The world behind me, the cross before me;

No turning back, no turning back.

Though none go with me, still I will follow;

Though none go with me, still I will follow;

Though none go with me, still I will follow;

No turning back, no turning back.

Will you decide now to follow Jesus?

Will you decide now to follow Jesus?

Will you decide now to follow Jesus?

No turning back, no turning back. 

— S. Sundar Singh 

. . .

"And if it seems evil to you to serve the Lord, choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods which your fathers served that were on the other side of the River, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you dwell. But as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.” — Joshua 24:15

This just in: Victoria does not have a secret

On Tuesday, December 10, millions will watch as women parade around in lacy thongs, push-up bras, heels, and body glitter.

Oh, and wings. The women will also wear wings. What else would you expect—we're talking about Victoria's Secret angels, after all.

Let's set the record straight. Angels are celestial beings. The good ones announced Christ's birth (Luke 2:9). They're known for bringing tidings of comfort and joy (Luke 2:10). They protect believers (Psalm 34:7). They give glory to God in the Highest (Luke 2:14). I don't know about you, but never once in the Bible do I remember Gabriel or any of his counterparts doing any of these things in their underwear.

. . .

I don't hate or feel animosity toward the women who pose for Victoria's Secret catalogs or walk the Victoria's Secret runway. I don't judge them either—that's not my job. Plus, full disclosure: I competed at Miss Texas. As a competitor, I once walked a runway in heels and a bikini. I cannot, and will not, throw stones.

Do I regret competing at Miss Texas? No. But now that I'm married, do I feel differently about the concept of walking around in heels and a bikini than I did before I truly understood what the phrase "men are visual" really means? Quite honestly, yes.

Ladies, we could talk about a hundred different things that fall into the category of gray Christianity—conflicts of faith that don't take away our salvation (praise God, nothing can!), but do pose a threat to the purity of heart and mind that we desire for ourselves and for the men around us. Wearing a "two-piece" to the beach. Watching movies and television shows saturated with sex. As if the title wasn't a dead give away, reading 50 Shades of Grey.

But for the sake of clarity, let's put all those rabbit trails aside and take an in-depth look at just one area of deception. 

Simply put, it's like this: Victoria does not have a secret. Click to tweet.

She is flaunting full-out, in-your-face, unapologetically public sexuality. And she's convinced us all that it's okay.

We've bought into the lie that Victoria's Secret is a hush-hush club for women only. That it's a sanctuary of frilly frocks only us girls know about. That the images of stunning, nearly-naked women advertised on billboards, window displays, catalogs, and commercials are meant to catch our attention.

Let's be real. If Victoria really wanted to appeal to our egos and vanity, she would sell us lingerie on a mannequin instead of a supermodel with better hair and abs than we'll ever attain this side of Photoshop.

"But it's aspirational! Victoria's Secret angels demonstrate how fun, carefree and glamorous we, too, will be if only we'll just buy their lingerie!"

Is anyone seriously buying that? Here's what I think: They're using the angels to grow their demographic. To catch the eyes of women and men. You and your husband. Children too.

"Okay, now you're just being dramatic. Victoria's Secret does not target children."

Do you consider a 12-year-old a child? If so, consider the following.

Per Media Bistro earlier this year,

"Top underwear brand Victoria’s Secret, in an apparent attempt to expand upon the runaway success of its 'collegiate' brand Pink, wants to tailor more of its marketing efforts to the middle-school-aged 'tween' crowd."

And let's not even get started on that Victoria's Secret billboard hovering over the floats in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. "Mommy, there's SpongeBob! And a lady in a red bra!"

Married women, am I saying that you shouldn't buy lingerie? That you should only buy granny panties (yes, I just said granny panties) from Walmart? That you should fear your own sexuality? Not at all. I'm asking:

Why are we not fighting for what's sacred? 

Why are we okay with broadcasting what's meant for the marriage bed on national television? Click to tweet.

Why are we not actively protecting the purity of our minds and hearts, and the minds and hearts of the men and children we love?

Why are we among the millions tuning in to watch women walking around in their underwear? Click to tweet.

We don't want our boyfriends, our fiancés or our husbands to look at porn. We are devastated by the mere thought of our boyfriends, our fiancés or our husbands desiring another woman. And yet...we watch the Victoria's Secret fashion show, and we invite our boyfriends, our fiancés or our husbands to watch alongside us.

You know how things get taken off the air? When ratings drop. When interest wanes. When viewers stop watching.

My television will be turned off on Tuesday, December 10. How about yours?

Thanksgiving + giving thanks

First off, my apologies for the blog absence. Here are a few excuses for the recent posting gap:

1. The "Our Story" series (episode 1, episode 2, and episode 3, and the final chapter) really took it out of me, writing-wise. Not in a bad way...more of a "that was really powerful, and now I feel at a loss for words" kind of way. It's hard to follow up a God story with human words. Does that make sense?

2. I recently completed the manuscript for a how-to book based on my column for D Weddings, "Hitched in a Hurry," and am working toward a spring book release (more details to come!). I'm also juggling a few freelance projects. So bye, free time.

3. Basically, I've just been doing a lot of reveling in God's goodness.

Speaking of which...

The Kikers just celebrated our first Thanksgiving! It looked like this:

It went like this: North Carolina, in-laws, crunchy walks through fallen leaves, football and fireplaces, coffee and hot chocolate, oranges and cloves, light tours, a castle visit, ornament making, and FOOD. Like, the best Thanksgiving meal I've ever had. So many good things packed into just one short week.

My mother-in-law's Thanksgiving table was beautiful, and decorations included "leaves of praise." One in particular caught my eye.

It just kind of "popped," you know?

My favorite decorations, of course, were of the human variety. I love having a second family that's not afraid to make a good silly face when the occasion arises.

I should probably mention that Taylor and I also purchased our first home during our visit. Formerly known as Asheville's "Biltmore Estate," this beauty is now officially referred to in my mind as "Kiker Castle."

It boasts a casual 250 rooms, huge gardens, a huger kitchen, and statues of cherubs, so...Christmas at our place this year? Literally, everyone I know is invited.

. . .

On a serious note, more than ever this year I was reminded that Thanksgiving shouldn't be a one-day thing. A lot of concern has been expressed about the fact that Christmas (or rather, the world of retail) has staged a takeover of Thanksgiving as a holiday. At first I kind of hopped on that ship, and said things like, "YEAH. Why IS Hobby Lobby putting up Christmas trees in mid-September?"

Actually, I'm still presently saying that. But the point is, it doesn't really matter. What really matters is that every single day, we bring a sacrifice of thanksgiving and worship and praise before the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. That every single day, we remember the many ways that we have been and continue to be blessed—and that in response to God's immeasurable Goodness and Kindness, we lay our lives, our plans, our everything down at His feet. We tell the world the reason we can have joy no matter the circumstance. We speak His name at every opportunity. We live like this:

Hebrews 13:15: "Through Jesus, therefore, let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise—the fruit of lips that openly profess his name."


Happy continued Thanksgiving!

. . .

UP NEXT ON THE BLOG: "Christmas Decor on a Dime"—tips and tricks for decking the halls without breaking the bank! (Preview: We spent a grand total of $17 to decorate our entire apartment. Stay tuned!)

Our story: the final chapter

When I was 14, I penned my first entry in a brand new journal. It had blue and white stripes on the cover and a title written in Sharpie: "Only You." 

Separate from my prayer journal and everyday journal-journal, I began "Only You" to write letters to my future husband. See, I had braces on my teeth. I wore a back brace to school to help correct my Scoliosis. I was skinny, lanky. Male attention of the "I want to date you" variety was non-existent (never mind the fact that I wasn't even allowed to date until I was 16). But one day, I knew that would change. My future husband would desire me, pursue me. He would call me beautiful. He would see what all of the lame 14-year-old guys surrounding me couldn't. He was out there somewhere, and over the years, I took great comfort in writing him pages upon pages detailing the strength of my affections for him...despite the fact that I didn't know his name.

"Just think," one early entry read. "I could know you in five-six years."

My husband was always real to me.


Through the years I would forget about the journal until a breakup, a bad date, or a particularly lonely day reminded me of its existence. Of his existence. My 18-year-old self shared a laugh with him about the dramatic poetry penned by 15-year-old me. At 19, I told him I was pretty sure he didn't attend Pepperdine, and if he did, he was taking his sweet time trying to find me. At 20, I told him to keep growing and discovering who he was in Christ—to see the beauty that can come from pain, to grow into the spiritual shape of a man after God's own heart. At 21, I let him know that I was a bridesmaid in two weddings, and that I was still waiting for him. That I always had been.

And then, on July 27, 2012, I told him I had met him.

I didn't use Taylor's name in the journal until his ring was on my finger—that had long been the unspoken rule of the journal. But in faith, three days after saying goodbye in Hilton Head, 22-year-old me pulled out "Only You" and let my future husband know that finally, finally, I was his.

"This is the beginning of our story."

On Thanksgiving, I wrote about his handmade turkey card—the one that kept me from thinking I'd made the whole thing up in my head. I wrote about how I didn't know there was a note written inside...until my dad started reading it out loud. I wrote about how I compared the size of his hand-shaped turkey feathers to my own hand, and wondered how the two would fit together. I wrote about reading that little card again and again whenever I began to doubt what the Lord had done at the beach. 

When his family invited mine to celebrate the New Year together in Tennessee, I wrote that I was nervous. I admitted that I didn't know what I would do or say when I first saw him. Would I hug him? Give him a high five? Immediately pour out my soul and tell him that we were meant to be together...forever? 

In January, I wrote that it was hard to find the words to say. That God was so good. That I was blown away. That I couldn't believe he had felt the same way all along...and never asked for my phone number! I wrote that I was honored when he asked my father for permission to date me, and told his parents he intended to pursue me—despite the fact that he was still living in North Carolina, and I was in Texas.

In March, with his ring on my left hand, I wrote his name for the first time: Taylor Ross Kiker. I let him know that everything that had transpired in the past, and everything that would come in the future, I accepted wholly and took on as a part of myself. That I couldn't wait to begin our joined adventure. That I had always been his. That I always would be.

In July, on the night before our wedding, I wrote that I loved him deeply, expansively; more than I knew was possible. But I also confessed that I would never be enough for him—that he would always and only be found in Christ. I promised to celebrate the good in him forever, and call him back to his true identity when he could not see or feel Truth for himself. That always, always, my heartsongs had been written to only him. "Only You."

And then, on July 27, 2013—one year from the date I journaled that our story had begun—no written words were necessary. Because waiting for me at the end of the altar was my faith personified; my prayers in the flesh. And with his hands holding mine, he spoke these words:

"According to the will of God and my desire, I, Taylor, take you, Karley, to be my wife."

14-year-old Karley, you are chosen.

"Leaving my father and mother, I cleave to you."

15-year-old Karley, I'm forsaking everything I've known to unite myself with you.

"Through every year and every circumstance, I will remain constant in my commitment to you."

19-year-old Karley, I've always been there, and I always will be.

"I will love you as Christ loves the church, giving my life to you."

21-year-old Karley, your waiting has been worthwhile—I am yours completely, and I vow to love you how my Savior first loved me.

"I will always hope all things and believe all things in you and for you, turning your eyes constantly to Him who gave us one another." 

23-year-old Karley, 45-year-old Karley, 62-year-old Karley, and 89-year-old Karley, I will never stop pointing you in the direction of the One who loved you first; the God who joined us together in His service until death do us part.

. . . 

It's my prayer that in reading this series you have become more aware of how "wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God." (Eph. 3:18-20) That those who have considered compromise in their dating relationships will be encouraged to hold out for what's real. That those who, like me, have attempted to write their own love stories will lay down their pens and just rest at Jesus' feet for awhile. That those who have questioned God's goodness and faithfulness or feared that His provision can't or won't reach them, will experience the healing power of His love and better understand His heart as a Good Father. That those with longing hearts will soon-and-very-soon exchange vows with their own God-given answer to prayer, and experience the strength of Christ's love in human form.

 

Please understand that the movie of "Our Story" doesn't end with our vows, our first kiss as man and wife, or waving goodbye while boarding the plane to Mexico for our honeymoon. It carries on still, marked by scenes of washing the dishes, going to the gym, making Crockpot dinners, and doing all of the ordinary things that ordinary people do (yes, even arguing). But there is a new-found richness in the everyday and the mundane. That's because...

Every time I look at Taylor, I marvel at what God has done.

Every time I share our story, I am overwhelmed by His goodness. 

Every time I say "my husband," I stand in awe at the provision, the creativity, and the story-weaving ability of Jesus, the unshakeable, inescapable Lover of my soul. 


The bottom line: If you read episode one, episode two, and episode three very carefully, you'll realize what we've realized. That if you took God out of the equation, we wouldn't have a story. 

Why? Because He is our story, and He is our song. 

Ephesians 3:20-21: "Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen"

Our story: episode three

"What's a Twin River?"

The above is filed in the "most commonly asked questions of my life" folder I (don't actually) keep on my laptop. Or at least it was, back when I was serving the great state of Texas as Miss Twin Rivers 2012.

I've got the post-pageant glow...oh wait, that's just a spray tan.

I'm so tempted to diverge into the land of spray tans and evening gowns here, because truly, it was/is all completely fascinating to me. But that's another story entirely—probably one that's more book-length than blog-worthy, but we'll see. In the meantime, if you're curious about why I competed, you can click here.

Two weeks out from the Miss Texas Scholarship Pageant, I was standing in my parents' kitchen feeling whiny and frustrated (probably just needed a brownie) when my dad announced, "I'm going to book a vacation on Hilton Head Island for the week after the pageant."

Normal, expected response: "Awesome! How many swimsuits should I bring?"

My response: "Are you kidding me? If I win, I won't be able to go on vacation...are you saying you don't believe in my dreams?!"

See, in my sugar-deprived mind, my dad was saying, "There's no way you're going to win, sweetie, so let's skip out of town as soon as possible after you go down in flames." In real life, I think his thoughts were more along the lines of, "The hyper-focus of the last six months has left our entire family really, really, really exhausted. Win or lose, let's kick back and enjoy a nice vacay together."

But I still didn't want to go to Hilton Head. All people did there was golf, right?

My angsty protests and cries that no one understood my passions continued until my dad announced, "You know what? I'll call the Kikers. They don't live too far away...maybe they'd like to meet up with us on the beach. Who knows? Taylor might even bring a few friends."

Under normal circumstances, I think my dad's solution would be called a bribe. In light of the rest of our story, I think you'll agree that it was actually a Divine revelation inspired by the Holy Spirit.

Final night of Miss Texas—just a week away from "meeting" my husband!

Two weeks later, I walked off the Miss Texas stage with a win—just not the kind I had originally hoped for (i.e., there was no crown involved). But I had gone "all in" on a new experience, worked diligently toward a goal, gained invaluable speaking experience, and interacted with students, senior citizens, and Special Olympic athletes I wouldn't have otherwise met. So I counted it a victory, and it was off to Hilton Head we went.

Hi, husband.

This is where I really met Taylor. With no makeup on, no future plans to speak of, and our parents sitting approximately three feet away the entire time we were conversing.

For six months, I had been singularly focused on one goal, and one goal only: Becoming Miss Texas. By the time I hit the beach, my frame of mind had undergone a major adjustment.

July 13, 2012

What's coming from this? What was that? Where do I go from here? I know You were there with me, God, from day one. But the outcome was different than I imagined. I'm open and excited to see what's next. Speak clearly and show me the way—I want to be where You are and serve in the capacity you have prepared for me. I want Your best, not my biggest fantasy. Continue to refine my vision.

Oh, He refined it, alright. Right there on the beach, the Lord connected my spirit to Taylor's. And just like that, I knew.

I'm 99% sure that someone just rolled their eyes. Believe me, I get it. Married people say all the time, "When you know, you know." As a single person, this was extremely frustrating for me to hear, too. So, as best as I can describe it, here's how I personally "knew that I knew":

1. I felt a physical change. Battles with anxiety and fear, memories of past struggles, uncertainty about the future, a sense of impending change...all of those things had created a kind of emotional numbness that I had physically felt in my chest for quite some time. Would I ever be able to connect completely in a relationship? I honestly didn't know—until Hilton Head. While talking to Taylor, without any force whatsoever, it felt as if a valve in my heart opened. And there I was—laid bare to the core, yet filled to overflowing with the sense that this man had seen through every pretense, every barrier, every bullet point on my resume I'd thrown out for his consideration, and had taken hold of me...the me that God created me to be. I didn't have to prove anything. I didn't have to try. I was exposed but safe all at the same time. I was known. The best thing? I could see him in exactly the same way.

2. Every conversation we had drew me closer to Christ, not to Taylor. I'm not blind. As I shared in episode one, I'd been well aware that Taylor was "hot" since I was 14 years old. But his looks aren't what captivated me for three days on the beach. In everything Taylor said, everything he did, he pointed me back to Christ. In his testimony; in the way he looked at nature; in the way his eyes looked at me, knew me, and—somehow, even then I could sense it—loved me anyway. It was and continues to be a reflection of the way God loves me, and it was and continues to be the most powerful, humbling truth I have ever experienced.

3. I just knew. For the majority of my life, I have demonstrated fear—but meeting Taylor inspired the greatest faith act of my life to date. After three days of conversation (and not one hand-hold, kiss, or "Can I get your phone number?" to speak of), I journaled:

July 24, 2012

Right now, sitting on the floor of our hotel room in South Carolina, I want to speak two things in faith: I believe that You can and will heal my Scoliosis from every pull and curve on my back, and I believe in my spirit that I am going to marry Taylor Kiker. Lord, it's yours. I release it and look only into your face. Holy Spirit, if he is the one for me as I believe he is, prompt his spirit and confirm it unmistakeably to me. I ask for a way where there seems to be no way. Fill me with Your peace, patience, and above all, a blazing and assured trust not in my emotions or feelings, but in You and You alone.

4. He just knew. After three days of conversation (and not one hand-hold, kiss, or "Can I get your phone number?" to speak of), Taylor journaled:

July 24, 2012

Thank You for the time I got to spend with Karley. I loved being able to talk about life, dreams, and You with her, and her parents are so cool. I would love to marry her; she embodies what I pray for in a wife. Thank you Jesus for the time I got to spend with her. I don't know how it would work and I have no idea what I'm doing, but You are the God of the impossible. Lord, heal her and increase her faith for her healing. You died for her to be whole; let Your kingdom come and will be done in her body. I will wait on You alone, Lord. I know Your plan is the best and most fulfilling for my life.

So, since we both named-and-claimed with the written word that we believed we were going to marry the other, you would think that we started dating immediately, right?

Wrong. There were still six, long months to go until either of us would know just how exactly the other was feeling...or that we both journaled those entries on the same day. Did you catch that? The same day. The same day.

But why didn't we say anything about our feelings? When in the world does the handmade turkey card come into the equation? And after such an incredible experience on the beach, did I really almost succumb to doubt and give up on the whole thing?

To find out, stay tuned for episode four—the final (I think) segment in the "Our Story" series. Can't wait to share the incredible conclusion!