rock foundations.

How are foundations built? Tonight I was challenged to build on what's solid, not shifting. Matthew 7 teaches, "A wise man builds his house on a rock." We're a people good at "doing," but we're not all that great at "being"...sitting at the feet of Jesus and listening to what He is saying. It's in the sitting that rock foundations are established.

What am I discovering about my foundations? Those that are built on solid rock are founded on pure trust in Jesus. The shifting foundations in my life—the moments I get stressed, worried, anxious, or try to control what's happening around me—are the moments I'm not sitting and listening. Those are the moments I find myself talking at Jesus more than I am listening to what He's saying. Ouch.

Worry reveals a sandy foundation...a foundation built on trusting myself rather than Jesus. It's in those moments I have to choose to either embrace wading through the quicksand or stop what I'm doing, sit down, listen and ask Jesus to rebuild me from the inside out.

Foundations are discovered and built at a crossroads of trust—choosing to trust myself or Jesus. My own wavering inability or His rock solid, never failing strength.

And it's at this crossroads that we discover what we're really made of & who we are really striving to become—attempted self-made men and women or people relentlessly chasing after the heart of Jesus, choosing to put our trust in Him.

Tonight, I'm wrestling with this question: what do my foundations say about me & the woman I'm becoming?

To Love, Be Loved.

I guess you could call me a list maker. Currently, I have eight running to do lists on my phone, all of which I update on a daily basis. I have lists outlining who I need to send thank you cards to, work projects I need to conquer, personal goals I want to meet, and even a list of adventures I plan on tackling with friends. I like the feeling of being organized and knowing where to find information when I need it. But perhaps more than a need to be organized, I like that rush you get when you finally scratch an item off your list, banning it from your memory entirely, leaving no loose ends behind.

Recently, I’ve found that I’ve translated this to do list mentality to other areas of my life…areas outside the realm of projects and items requiring action steps. I’m discovering that much like my reminders of who I need to send thank you cards to, I’ve looked at seasons of my life and even certain friendships as to do list items as well, anxiously trying to check them off my list in order to move on to the next.

But life doesn’t really work that way. And honestly, God never intended for life to be a series of check marks. In fact, I’m beginning to see that perhaps, He never even intended for every chapter to end with a period. Maybe, just maybe, we were never designed to fully close some chapters. Maybe certain chapters are meant to stay open.

If I dive straight to the core of the issue, it all boils down to control. Lists give me a sense of control. I dictate what makes it on the list and can pull an item from the list at any time. Seeing this freedom (or false sense of it), I began organizing my friendships and relationships into to do items in my head, adding a friend when I wanted to, pouring all of my heart and soul into him or her, and then cutting them loose when I felt the friendship was through. Relational list making became a defense mechanism. Rather than choosing to extend and receive love, I neatly categorized my relationships, holding the control in my fists as tightly as I could muster.

But here’s the catch: lists offer a false sense of control.

I could ditch a project to do list tomorrow and the world wouldn’t come crashing down. The project just wouldn’t get accomplished. And you know what, sometimes that’s ok. Categorizing friendships in a list also offers pseudo control. Those relationships never fully blossom into what they could be because I put a lid on their potential. In doing so, I assessed what I assumed the other person was willing to invest in me relationally and kept them boxed into a neat relational category in my head, closing myself off from potential hurt and pain. Do you know what’s utterly heartbreaking about that? I’ve missed out on some incredible relationships because I never allowed the friendship to become all that it could be. I boxed it in. I checked it off. I held onto the cards of control…a control I never really had in the first place.

“By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as He is so also are we in this world. 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.  If anyone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for he who does not love his brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. And this commandment we have from Him: whoever loves God must also love his brother.” 1 John 4:17-21

I love how Eugene Peterson translates the 1 John passage: “God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us, so that we’re free of worry on Judgment Day—our standing in the world is identical with Christ’s. There is no room in love for fear. Well-formed love banishes fear. Since fear is crippling, a fearful life—fear of death, fear of judgment—is one not yet fully formed in love. We, though, are going to love—love and be loved. First we were loved, now we love. He loved us first. If anyone boasts, ‘I love God,’ and goes right on hating his brother or sister, thinking nothing of it, he is a liar. If he won’t love the person he can see, how can he love the God he can’t see? The command we have from Christ is blunt: Loving God includes loving people. You’ve got to love both.”

When I read those five verses, it’s like a light bulb went on in my head. I’ve been living entirely wrong! John contrasts both love and fear, stating that they can’t co-exist. You can’t simultaneously choose to love others, yet live in fear. It’s impossible. So in essence, my to do lists and false sense of control over my relationships revealed the lack of love in my life—the lack of God’s presence.

1 John 4:17 clearly states God is love. This is the character of the God I serve; it’s His very nature. Later on, John bluntly declares that we can’t even claim to love God if we don’t love others. Let’s break this down, shall we? God is love. Fear is the opposite of love. Therefore there is no fear in the nature of God. Simple, right? Let’s go a step further. Both love and fear are an outward expression each of us choose to live by each day. So if love is the very nature of God, then love is the outpouring of God’s presence in my life. Fear represents a lack of His presence and lack of trust that He will show up like He says He will. Ouch.

There’s one more aspect of this thing called love in 1 John 4 that has become engraved in my mind: to love, we must be loved. Love is a reciprocal act—love is found in both giving and receiving. And that’s where vulnerability comes into the mix. When we choose to extend love, we don’t know if it will be offered back. And that’s downright scary. That alone drives us—me!—to trying to control and categorize relationships, building barriers around our hearts attempting to escape as much pain as possible. But caged love isn’t love. It’s like eating pre-packaged cookie dough. Sure, it tastes sweet and is close to the real thing. But it’s nowhere near as good as that homemade cookie dough your Grandma makes each Christmas. There is a distinct difference. When we stare vulnerability in the face, we must choose fear or love, and risk receiving nothing in return.

My Heavenly Father modeled this for me. God saw me before I even knew Him, and risked vulnerability. He sent His Son to die for me, taking the ugly stench of my sin and replacing it with a clean, white slate. He chose love. He chose to love me regardless of if I would choose to accept His love. He loved me regardless.

That is exactly how He has designed me to live. To stare vulnerability in the face and choose to love—to risk receiving nothing in return and being ok with that. To ditch my façade of to do lists and fully live! I can’t choose both fear and love. I must choose. But here’s the best part: I’m already equipped to love. To love, I must be loved, and I already am. The greatest act of love known to mankind has already taken place! God sent His Son for me! Because of that love, I can extend love…even if no human ever gives it back. I am loved, so I can love.

This post originally appeared on pickyourportion.com.

look up.

Perspective is a choice. It takes courage and is messy, but absolutely beautiful at the same time. The circumstances around you may seem bleak, but there is always a ray of hope pushing through. We just need to look for it.

What is your ray of hope today? Don't miss the beauty pushing through the clouds simply because you chose to not look up.

"For God, who said, 'Let there be light in the darkness,' has made this light shine in our hearts so we could know the glory of God that is seen in the face of Jesus Christ. We now have this light shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves. We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies." {2 Corinthians 4:6-10 NLT}

free movie tickets & 79 degrees.

We picked a movie. We had our tickets. We had our seats. And I was already digging into a fresh box of chocolate covered raisins. Now that's what I call a Sunday night.


The lights dimmed, the previews came and went, and we finally settled into the latest blockbuster flick. And then the power went out. There wasn't a flickering of lights or even a warning. For a split-second, I thought the blackened screen was a part of the movie itself...but then the movie never moved forward. It was frozen on a blank screen.


The emergency lights were lit, but everything else remained pitch black. As if on cue, a sea of iPhone lights began to flood the theater, interspersed with a few iPhone flashlights. Several what seemed like super long minutes passed by, and then the voices started.

Someone call the theater.
Why is this taking so long?
I'd better get a refund.
Will someone start the movie already?!

More minutes ticked by.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

With a sudden flash, we were back in business. The movie picked up right where we left off. But we were missing one key element: sound.

Cue the voices again.

Helloooo...we need sound!
Someone fix this already!
This is unbelievable.

And along with the sea of comments came silly interpretations of what the characters were saying and groups of movie goers who, fed up with the situation, just got up and left.

Awkward.

In a matter of minutes, the sound too returned and we finished the movie without missing a beat. We even received free movie tickets for the inconvenience...and walked outside to a breezy 79 degree Nevada night. For my fellow desert dwellers out there, you know that monsoon season has its upside!

Now this is a great story and all, and I'm sure many of you are wondering why I've even rambled on about it in the first place. No, my point wasn't to simply blurt out my movie going experience for the world to hear. My point centers around the word perspective.

The series of events described above literally took place within the timeframe of 10 minutes. In that short window, a group of people quickly passed through the emotional stages of excitement and anticipation to be hanging out on a Sunday night, to anger and rage towards a movie theater who can't control whether the desert monsoon season decides to send massive lighting bolts its way or not.

In the midst of the chaos, I looked at my friend and we both couldn't help but laugh. People's responses were hilariously appalling...and honestly, kind of sad. And then it dawned on me how strong our perspective truly is. How we think about the circumstances around us has the power to shape them both for the positive or the negative.

For the movie goers who viewed the slight setback as a problem, the entire experience was ruined...and brought out a side of anger towards others that just wasn't even necessary.

For the movie goers who saw the power outage as an opportunity to think about cooler weather outside and a break from the 100+ degree Nevada surges, the experience was a win-win. We were able to finish the movie we intended to see, receive free movie tickets to come back another time, AND walked outside to a gorgeous night!

We were all sitting in the same theater with the same set of circumstances. Yet two completely different experiences took place. And it all stemmed from our perspective...our vantage point...our attitude...our thoughts.

I love how Philippians 4:8-9 guides us: "Summing it all up, friends, I’d say you’ll do best by filling your minds and meditating on things true, noble, reputable, authentic, compelling, gracious—the best, not the worst; the beautiful, not the ugly; things to praise, not things to curse. Put into practice what you learned from me, what you heard and saw and realized. Do that, and God, who makes everything work together, will work you into his most excellent harmonies."

Tonight, I'm wrestling with this question: how does my perspective guide and shape my circumstances?

Next.

This post is a throwback of sorts. Originally posted over at pickyourportion.com and before I had graduated from college, the principles surrounding this word "next" still ring true today!

So, what are you doing after graduation? This question, often birthed out of innocent intentions, became one of my least favorite conversation starters a year ago.

I was stepping into my last semester of college and feelings of anticipation were creeping in, primarily centered around one word: next.

It was a season of transition marked by job interviews, final exams, resumes, lots of coffee, goodbyes and hellos. And at times, it felt like a blessing and a curse.

The dreaded “what are you doing after graduation” question left me with mixed emotions, making me feel as if I should have the next 10 years of my life mapped out, career moves in place, relationships in check. But then the weight of that reality would sink in: how was I supposed to plan the next decade of my life when I didn’t even have the day after graduation figured out?

Interviews lined up. I was applying for jobs I’d dreamed about, and then those opportunities were actually extended to me in a pretty package, but something wasn’t right.

I distinctly remember having a conversation with my Dad about one of my job opportunities and he looked me square in the eyes, asking one simple question: Have you talked to God about it?

Ouch. Well, in all honesty, I hadn’t…not that much anyways. I’d thanked Him for the opportunities, but taken them as a “sign” that God was blessing me with the “job I’d always wanted.”

I had to face a heart check. I could have all the opportunities in the world, but if I wasn’t where God wanted me to be, it was all pointless.

So I got on my knees. I grabbed my Bible. And I began asking for advice from trusted mentors who had already been down the graduate-from-college-and-apply-for-a-job road. One response took my breath away: “He [God] has never given me much of a blueprint or a five year plan…but He’s always faithful to show me the exact next step.” The. Exact. Next. Step.

That statement and the words in Galatians 6 paved the way for a paradigm shift in my life. I wasn’t marching towards a graduation stage to have life all figured out. I was marching towards a next step…a next step that God would provide.

Galatians 6:4-5, 8 in the Message says, “Make a careful exploration of who you are and the work you have been given, and then sink yourself into that. Don’t be impressed with yourself. Don’t compare yourself with others. Each of you must take responsibility for doing the creative best you can with your own life…the one who plants in response to God, letting God’s Spirit do the growth work in him, harvests a crop of real life, eternal life.”

These words coincided with advice from a second mentor, who shared this: “Discontent comes by comparison. I realized [in my journey] that I was comparing my situation to others and was becoming discontent. I was neglecting to be grateful for what was right in front of me.”

Later, Galatians 6:16 in the Message says, “It’s not what you and I do…it is what God is doing, and He is creating something totally new, a free life!”

Here I was doing, doing, doing. Applying for one more opportunity. Going to one more interview. Making one more update to my portfolio. And while I was responding like a frenzied windstorm, I was having conversations with my friends comparing my progress to theirs. Were they having interviews? Had any of them landed a job yet?

But I had it all wrong. Next steps aren’t about what I can or can’t do. They’re about what God is already doing.

My wise friend didn’t leave me hanging with his comparison truth. He invited me into the rest of his story: “My perspective began to shift as I felt God telling me, ‘Quit trying to figure out what’s down the road. Be obedient here and now, and I will open the doors.’” It’s not what I do…it’s what God is doing.

So I let go. I kissed pseudo-control goodbye and said, “God, I’m going to explore who You’ve called me to be, and in doing so, You show me what’s next.” You know what’s cool about that prayer? God showed up. He didn’t abandon me. He showed me a next that was even better than anything I could have created on my own.

And here’s the best part of it all: that’s who God is. He’s the God of next. But He’s also the God of yesterday, today, and right now. He goes before me and behind me.

I’m learning that it’s really ok to not know what I’m doing next. I’m just going to hold tight to Him, the very creator of my next.

This post originally appeared on pickyourportion.com. 

Today I Reflect.

As I was walking to my car today, I was honestly overcome by emotion. Thinking through the events of the past 24 hours at Central not only reminded me of how thankful I am to be a part of a church centered around sharing the radical grace of God, but Jesus also breathed fresh life into me and this calling He has placed on my life.

So today, I reflect.

I'm reflecting on the hundreds of students gathered in Arizona for IGNITE 2014. More than just a fun summer camp, these students are discovering that it's okay to not be okay, but they don't have to stay that way. They can ignite their lives with an encounter with Jesus.

I'm reflecting on how the LinkCentral team led the Henderson Campus in worship this weekend and reminded us that the cry of our hearts should be to bring Jesus praise.

I'm reflecting on people taking their next steps at Central. We celebrated with our Southwest Campus as many graduated from First Step this weekend!

I'm reflecting on an incredible teaching in our Breaking Bad series—Jud reminded us that to displace worry in our lives, we have to trust Jesus.

I'm reflecting on our incredible volunteers. Weekly across all of our campuses, hundreds of men and women show up with skin in the game—ready to put hands and feet to our mission of introducing people to Jesus and helping them follow Him.

I'm reflecting on this thing we call the church and how she has the potential to be the light of the world...how she carries the greatest story those around us will ever hear—and how we choose to communicate that really, really matters.

I'm reflecting on a God who's bigger than my fears—a God who calls me to this thing called ministry and says He will equip me to do it.

I'm reflecting and I'm thankful. Thankful for a God who is so much bigger than I could ever imagine.

squeeze the day.

With moving to a new place comes a laundry list of new things: new vehicle registration, new doctors offices, new dentists, new friends, new favorite restaurants, new grocery stores, new gas stations, new...everything. My strategy over the last few months has been to tackle all of the "new" items one check mark at a time. Last week, the time came to tackle the "find a doctor" item on my to do list. So I did my research, asked a few friends, and landed on my best choice. I dialed the number, made an appointment, and put a nice big check mark next to that line item. Check. One more item off the list.

And then I got sick.

And not just sick, but down-for-the-count, can't-get-out-of-bed, losing-track-of-days kind of sick. By the time the day of my appointment rolled around, I couldn't have been happier to have tackled that to do list item the week before. I walked into my new doctor's office, conquered paperwork, went through the initial examinations, and then waited for the doctor's diagnosis.

"I'd like to get some x-rays and blood work done to check this out a little further," came her steady reply. "I think you potentially passed a kidney stone and I want to see if you have any other stones. You can get the x-ray taken care of today, and tackle the blood work tomorrow."

X-rays. No problem. That's practically like taking a nap. But blood work? Yikes. That wasn't something I was prepared for. Let me explain why...

In 2009, I had orthognathic jaw surgery. In a memorable turn of events, the surgery didn't go quite as planned and post-operation, I ended up in the ER dehydrated with nurses attempting to get an IV in my system. They tried 16 times before having any success. Just about every vein in my body was jabbed and poked as I pleaded with my own skin to cooperate. The final attempt happened to be in the veins in my neck. I vividly remember being positioned so that my body was upside-down, blood rushing to my head, and the nurse trying to secure an IV needle. I don't think I've ever screamed as much as I did in those few moments. At one point, I remember my Dad, staring straight into my eyes, saying, "Emily, pretend you're somewhere else. You're on a beach! You're on Sanibel Island. We're walking there right now!" I could only look angrily as the pain continued. Finally, a baby needle was brought out and a vein in my hand decided to cooperate. Fast-forward back to 2014.

As soon as I heard the words "blood work" escape my doctor's mouth, I couldn't help but re-live the adventure I just described above. And believe me, that's no walk down memory lane. It's more like a sprint through nightmare avenue. My body tensed as I mentally made note of everything I needed to take care of. Pick up my medication at the Pharmacy. Check. Get x-rays done. Check. Buy a ton of cranberry juice. Check. Ask my Dad how to survive kidney stones. Check, check, check. Get blood work taken care of. I don't want to say check.

But this was something I had to do.

So early the next day, my roommate and I made the trek back to the doctor's office for my dreaded blood work. I was nervous. My palms were sweating. I wanted to cry. All I could envision was the nurse hanging me upside-down and drawing blood from my neck. The fear was real. I wanted to escape. And then my name was called. The moment had come. I walked back and took a seat. As the typical "find a vein" search started, I stared fearfully at Shelby and asked her to hold my hand. She tried to take my mind off of it as the nurse said, "Here we go." And it just happened. I felt a tiny prick. But it happened. There was no pain, no second tries, no hanging me upside down. It worked. My baby veins conquered my blood work. I stared fear in the face and won. And after winning, I celebrated with a smoothie and the reminder to "squeeze" the day. It only seemed fitting.

The night before having my blood work done, I was on the phone with my parents, talking through the events of the week and my Dad said something that really resonated with me: "Emily, you're not in the same condition that you were in back in 2009. You're in a different place. You were dehydrated when they couldn't find your veins. Now, you're not."

This may seem like a stretch to you, but to me, a lightbulb went off. There is pain, grief, shame and sorrow in my past that I don't want to revisit. There are moments in life when I felt like I was hung upside-down, screaming in pain, angry at myself or the decisions of those around me. Sometimes thinking back to those situations, people, and places makes me feel the pain all over again. I don't want to look at the dehydrated moments of my life. I want to run full-steam ahead.

But sometimes we have to face our fear, our pain, and our shame and choose to conquer it in order to move forward. Here's what I'm learning to embrace: I was in a different place emotionally, spiritually, physically and mentally in the moments of my past that bring me pain. The decisions I made then stem from a dehydrated heart, a heart not choosing to be the woman God made me to be. I've found healing from my past hurts, habits and hang-ups by nourishing my soul—replenishing that which was dead with the life-giving water of Jesus. I'm not that broken-down girl who made the decisions I'm ashamed of anymore. I'm forgiven. I'm free. I'm redeemed. And I am whole.

That being said, I don't have to be terrified looking at my past. I don't need to be nervous, scared or ashamed when I walk into a place that reminds me of past decisions, or see an individual that makes me think of past hurt. I can stare at my pain and conquer it because I'm not that girl anymore. I'm changing, growing, healing, and becoming who God made me to be.

You see, sometimes we just have to stare at our pain head-on in order to discover healing and breakthrough. And please hear me: I'm not saying to be unwise here. It would be foolish of us to deliberately walk into unsafe, unhealthy situations that could cause us harm or stunt the growth God is doing in us. I'm talking about situations and circumstances outside of our control: memories, flashbacks, people, and the healing process itself. Healing takes time. It takes a whole lot of prayer. And it takes the courage to face your fears.

I'm thankful I'm not the same girl from 2009 who was so dehydrated that it took 16 tries before the 17th IV needle stuck. I'm thankful I was able to look fear in the face this week and have blood work done without being hung upside-down.

I'm thankful I'm not the same girl who made those mistakes she wishes she could forget. Now, quite honestly, I'm finally coming to a place where I actually believe it's ok to not be ok. And it's ok to make mistakes. Perhaps the biggest mistakes and some of my deepest pain will be how I can help people the most. If anything, my biggest mistakes and deepest pain and shame have helped me discover more of who Emily is—and isn't—than ever before. As a result, I've learned more about God's grace in a way I never imaged, and I'm finally beginning to believe that shame doesn't define me. The internal battles and fearful war can end because I'm not that same girl anymore. I'm a girl who can stare fear in the face...and win. I think it's time for us to stand up and squeeze the day.

It's Time for the Woman to Stand Up

I heard a statement when I was 16-years-old that I haven’t been able to forget. I vividly remember sitting in a hotel ballroom in Orlando where I was attending a student leadership conference, when the keynote speaker said these bold, challenging words: “It’s time for the little girl to sit down and the woman to stand up.” Nearly seven years later, those words are still ringing in my ears.

The little girl in me wants life to be pretty simple…like picking what restaurant you want to go to for dinner. But life doesn’t always have concrete answers. I’m discovering there are many shades of grey. For me, tipping into adulthood felt strange at first—like playing dress up in your mom’s clothes only to find out that they actually fit you. It was this sensation of stumbling around in the dark, tripping over furniture you didn’t know was there, all the while searching for the light. Many days I feel like I’m standing at the crossroads of that little girl I once was and the woman I know I am called to be. And it’s in this crossroads that I know I must make a choice to either remain the same or embrace the freefall.

Hebrews 6:1-3, 11-12 says, “Therefore let us leave the elementary doctrine of Christ and go on to maturity, not laying again a foundation of repentance from dead works and of faith toward God, and of instruction about washings, the laying on of hands, the resurrection of the dead, and eternal judgment. And this we will do if God permits . . . And we desire each one of you to show the same earnestness to have the full assurance of hope until the end, so that you may not be sluggish, but imitators of those who through faith and patience inherit the promises.”

I love how Eugene Peterson so bluntly explains the words of Hebrews 6:1-3, 11-12 in The Message: “So come on, let’s leave the preschool fingerpainting exercises on Christ and get on with the grand work of art. Grow up in Christ. The basic foundational truths are in place: turning your back on ‘salvation by self-help’ and turning in trust toward God . . . extend that same intensity toward a full-bodied hope, and keep at it till the finish. Don’t drag your feet. Be like those who stay the course with committed faith, and then get everything promised to them.”

Growing up from childhood into adulthood is a natural rhythm in life. We biologically can’t remain the same—we’ll become adults whether we like it or not. Just as we physically mature, God also calls us spiritually to mature as well. But I don’t think the words in Hebrews 6 are simply calling us to mature in knowledge. I think they’re challenging us to mature in our capacity...our potential…to mature into the women God originally designed us to be.

But here’s the thing: we can’t manufacture this kind of maturity. Rising to the occasion and becoming the woman God calls you to be, isn’t something we can just turn on and off like a light switch. It’s a transforming work God must do in and through us.

Romans 4:3, 17-18 says, “The story we’re given is a God-story, not an Abraham story. What we read in Scripture is, ‘Abraham entered into what God was doing for him and that was the turning point. He trusted God to set him right instead of trying to be right on his own . . . Abraham was first named ‘father’ and then became a father because he dared to trust God to do what only God could do: raise the dead to life, with a word make something out of nothing. When everything was hopeless, Abraham believed anyway, deciding to live not on the basis of what he saw he couldn’t do but on what God said he would do.”

Did you catch that? Abraham became who God made him to be because he trusted God to do it. That’s an incredible thought and it personally gives me so much hope. You see, God calls us to maturity, but He doesn’t just say, “Figure it out.” He actually says the exact opposite. Maturing into the women God calls us to be is found by sitting at His feet. It’s discovered in settling down and not trying to figure it out on our own. It’s accomplished through trusting Him to do what He said He would do. Maturity is found in growing your trust.

Hebrews 6:18-20 leaves us with incredible hope: “Hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf.” Jesus has covered our past, He is present in today, and He has run before us into our future. We don’t have to do this growing up thing alone. I can become the woman God created me to be because He is with me and He is for me.

This post originally appeared on pickyourportion.com.

Now I'm a Warrior

Seven months ago I made one of the biggest decisions of my life. I packed up my little 2003 Toyota Solara with everything I owned, and drove 2,220 miles away from my family and support system to land in perhaps what’s known as the sin capitol of the world…and call it home.

Now many at first called me crazy. Some perhaps still assume I am. However, something much deeper drew me to Las Vegas than flashy lights, urban culture and an epic career opportunity. My first three months in the desert have taught me something so much more valuable than anything I could have initially hoped it could have. It’s taught me that I’m a warrior.

Moving across the country into a new environment forced me to evaluate my belief system. For the past 23 years, it’s been left somewhat unchallenged by my own mind simply because I never had to face the tough questions I’ve wrestled with on my own, here in the valley. From where I sit today, I’m asking questions for myself. Questions like, “Do I really believe this? Or is this something I just always agreed to because that’s what those around me believed?” Through really diving into the root of these questions, I’ve discovered who I am and who I want to become and the steps I need to take to get there.

One of the most eye-opening truths I’ve learned is that God hand-picked me to be exactly where I am for a very specific reason and purpose. 2 Thessalonians 2:14 says, “God picked you out as his from the very start.” It’s so easy to think that so much in this life is random or purposeless; but God’s Word says the exact opposite!  Our lives are built on purpose—and not just any purpose, but a purpose specific to who He designed us to be. That’s incredible.

After truly allowing this reality to sink into the depths of my bones, I also began to realize that purpose doesn’t stop there. Yes, God has chosen me for such a time as this, and in this exact location; however, it’s up to me to lean in to that purpose. I’ve had to wrestle with feelings of inadequacy, shame of past decisions, and whether what God says about me is even true. That’s when I ran into the words of 2 Thessalonians 2:15-17, “So then, brothers, stand firm and hold to the traditions that you were taught by us, either by our spoken word or by our letter. Now may our Lord Jesus Christ himself, and God our Father, who loved us and gave us eternal comfort and good hope through grace, comfort your hearts and establish them in every good work and word.” I also love how Eugene Peterson words these three verses in The Message, “So, friends, take a firm stand, feet on the ground and head high. Keep a tight grip on what you were taught, whether in personal conversation or by our letter. May Jesus himself and God our Father, who reached out in love and surprised you with gifts of unending help and confidence, put a fresh heart in you, invigorate your work, enliven your speech.”

Purpose is lived out by my willingness to stand firmly grounded on what I believe. In discovering that truth, I’ve really honed in my core beliefs and outlined for myself what I believe for me—not what my parents believe, what my friends advocate for, or even what culture says is right or wrong. What do I believe for me? That’s what it came down to in my own life…and that is exactly what it came down to in order for me stand up firmly.

I read a recent article by Sarah Bessey in which she declared that we’re named by God as “Beloved Warriors.” I couldn’t help but fall in love with that concept. And I think Sarah’s onto something—in order to accomplish living out my purpose and staying rooted in my belief system, I have to fight for it. I need to lace up my boots, stand tall and claim victory. I need to be who God already says I am!

I believe transformation is all about putting my stake in the ground, claiming victory over my past and anticipating the path ahead. It’s about embracing the road we left behind, but not forgetting what brought us to this point in time. It’s a choice to lace up your boots, brush the dirt off your face and declare yourself to be the beloved warrior God already designed you to be. It’s a declaration of war on purposelessness, and the pursuit of victory that is already our’s to claim.

My prayer for you and my prayer for me is that God “puts a fresh heart in you, invigorates your work, and enlivens your speech.” May we be women anchored in our beliefs who passionately pursue the purpose God has on our lives…and may we not be afraid to lace up our boots.

This post originally appeared on pickyourportion.com. 

let your no shape your yes

I read a statement once that I haven't been able to forget: "Some of the most life-shaping decisions you make in this season will be about walking away from good-enough, in search of can't-live-without." That simple truth got me thinking that perhaps what we say no to is just as important as what we say yes to...and sometimes, our no might be even more important that our yes.

Good is fine and all, but I don't want to settle for just good. I want to live out everything God has planned for me to the best of my ability. I want to graduate from good to great. I want to grow, dive deeper, push through leadership lids, and become. I don't want a life that's stagnant and stale; I don't want to live trapped in a sea of bland. I want a life of color, adventure, and risk. I want to put my head on my pillow each night knowing that if God doesn't show up in the dreams He's put in my heart, it's game over for me. I want to be dependent, but only on Jesus. I want to pursue my passions relentlessly. I want to challenge myself, push myself to the limit, and discover just how far I can go.

But in order to really fulfill the call God has on my life, I'm going to have to start saying no.

No to hasty decisions.
No to pleasing people rather than pleasing God.
No to unhealthy relationships.
No to perfectionism.
No to unintentional living.
No to settling for average.
No to thinking I know it all.
No to living stuck in past shame.
No to unwise thoughts.
No to good-enough.

The foundation I build with my nos will lead to a stronger yes. Yes to what God has created me for. Yes to who He has called me to be. Yes to the life I want to lead. Yes to the girl I want to become.

Without saying no, I can't set myself up to say yes.

What will you say no to today in order to say a resounding YES?

new collaboration

Recently, I had the opportunity to contribute to Pick Your Portion, an incredible website dedicated to pointing us straight to God's Word on this journey we call life.


I'd been struggling with how to word some of my experiences over the past few months with topics like college graduation, next steps, and the future. When Pick Your Portion asked me to write a response to a passage in Galatians, everything just clicked!

So, head on over to Pick Your Portion to see what I'm learning about the exact next thing.

the truth about tomorrow

It literally feels like we just threw our graduation caps in the air and marched across that graduation stage strutting our proudest Gator chomps. Now, diplomas have arrived in the mail. Speciality frames are being ordered. New jobs are being started. Moves are taking place. And oh, friends are getting married.

I'll never forget how I met my friend, Alex. He sat in front of me in Dr. Sutherland's Advertising Strategy class during our Spring semester of junior year. We met through a mutual friend and struck up a conversation. Since that day, I would consider Alex as one of my closest friends in college. We formed a little tribe of friends and made countless trips to Pascal's Coffeehouse, explored the University of Florida's campus, dreamed about what our lives would look like after we graduated, took tons of photos on World Water Day for charity: water, and survived our capstone course—Campaigns.

Fast-forward almost three months after graduation. I'm sitting five rows back in a church just outside Tallahassee, looking at my friend's eyes moisten as he sees his beautiful bride walk down the aisle toward him. They can't take their eyes off each other...literally. Glowing, both Alex and Shannon made a vow to each other and to God, leaning in to this next chapter of their lives.

Time stopped for me in the middle of their ceremony. It wasn't that I hadn't ever been to a wedding before or that I was just mesmerized by the beautiful decor. The seasons of life just sort of hit me square in the face. A close friend of mine just got married. Three months ago we graduated from college. We're starting careers. We're moving into new territory, uncharted waters.

The funny thing is, Alex isn't my first friend to get married. I've gone to friends' weddings, celebrated their special moments & will be wishing some "Happy Anniversary" soon! But Alex's wedding made me stop and think about life and seasons and chapters in a way I hadn't before. Maybe it's the fact that I've celebrate monumental life moments with Alex before that made me sense this seasonal shift in life; but whatever the case may be, I was reminded of how beautiful this thing we call life really is and just how fast it's moving.

I want to slow down. Sometimes, I feel like middle school was yesterday, and I was staring wide-eyed at the college girls I adored, wondering what life would be like when I was in their shoes. Now I am. And it's going so fast. In the midst of changing seasons, I want to hang on to one truth with all that I am: I am known and loved by God. 

As I embrace the Creator of my soul, I want to bask in His unending love, His perfect faithfulness. It's so comforting to know that He will never leave me or forsake me (Deuteronomy 31v6). He sees me where I am today and He sees where He is leading me tomorrow. Here's the cool part: when I trust God with my tomorrows, I can slow down and give today all I've got...every fiber of my being, every morsel of my love, every inch of my creativity, every shred of forgiveness...every, single breath.

Life is going to keep moving. And from what I hear, it only gets faster. I can't pause, rewind, or stop it. But I can live it fully...and as I face a brand new season, this land I've never been before, I'm going to trust what tomorrow looks like to the God who made it in the first place.

following Jesus leads to outsiders

We often don't think of having a relationship with complete strangers. But the truth of the matter is, we do. Someone may look different than us, have a different style, and we may have never said a word to them, but we have one thing in common: our Creator.

Today, I'm reflecting on some hard words. Yesterday at Church of Hope, we talked about "outsiders"—those who haven't experienced this incredible Hope we have in Christ. The conversation got me thinking about those who perhaps step into a church environment for the first time or the first time in a long time.

What are they thinking? Are they worried about what to expect? What to wear?

What are they expecting? A friend? Hope? Answers? Judgement?

I've been the new girl, the outsider, in plenty of situations ranging from schools to churches to work environments. The first time stepping foot in a new place in tough. Environments where people's eyes stare at you and don't offer a friendly smile is discouraging. On the flip-side, the environments I've stepped into where a friendly word has been extended and smile offered my way, I've felt welcomed and accepted...like I belong.

Church is a polarizing environment in our culture. While some experience the incredible community that the church was designed to be, others experience deep hurt, pain, rejection, and judgement. And I know this from personal experience. I've lived on both ends of that spectrum.

Hear my heart: let us never be a people who look at someone who comes to church for the very first time or the first time in a long time and say, "It's your responsibility to let me know you're new here." Ouch. Too often—and not just on Sundays—we walk past people sitting at cafe tables, standing off to the side alone, or sitting in a lone aisle, rushing quickly to grab coffee or say a quick hello to a friend before the worship gathering starts. Little do we know what that person is going through...or perhaps, what they have experienced in a church environment in the past. It's not their responsibility to announce the fact that they're a stranger. If we are followers of Christ, it's our responsibility to be aware. Following Jesus leads to outsiders.

We—and I'm speaking to myself here too!—get stuck in routines far too easily. I know that I walk past people searching desperately for Hope...people who are outsiders that could be insiders and experience the life-giving Hope we have in Christ...but these people will only experience it if I slow down enough to see.

Let's slow down. This week, keep your eyes open to those who are different than you...than me. Be flexible. Talk to people. Smile.

And if you're part of a church community, when you gather on Sunday, don't walk past people so quickly...especially people you don't know. Say hello. Stop for a minute. You just might be the difference in them moving from being an outsider to being an insider...discovering that they have Hope in Christ.

If you consider yourself an outsider to this thing called church, hear me clearly: I don't know your story and I don't know what you've experienced inside the walls of a church. I understand the pain, the heartache, the feeling of hopelessness. But I've found Hope. Church has hurt me too. But Jesus hasn't. Jesus Christ fills me in a way that people never can. Lasting Hope, fulfilling Hope, comes from Christ alone. I'm sorry for the pain you've experienced and if I could wipe it away, I would. But know that you're not alone. Risk stepping into that environment again. Risk being vulnerable and if you have to take that first step and say hello, do it. But in the midst of the sea of faces, keep your eyes on the true source of Hope—Jesus Christ.

Following Jesus leads to outsiders. If you're not meeting and embracing them, you're not following Jesus. Hard, but true words.

the worship barn

"Hi. My name is Emily," I said to the 15 faces staring back at me. "And tonight couldn't have come at a better time because I'm really struggling with worship."

A week ago, my Mom texted me asking if I wanted to go with her to this "worship experience." In all honesty, I tried to think of excuses to not go. I hesitated. I wasn't sure. I was uncomfortable.

But I said yes.

For the past few weeks (or really, the past few months), I've been struggling with the concept of worship—what does it look like, feel like, taste like? Is it confined to Sundays? Is there a certain way you're supposed to do it? Are you supposed to close your eyes? Lift your hands in the air? Dance in circles? Kneel? Stand stoically? In my mind, I've framed "worship" as a song, something we stand and do on Sundays. We arrive at church, someone greets us, we stand, we sing, we sit down, we listen, we might stand and sing again, and then we go on our way.

But lately I just feel like I'm missing something. And, if I'm gut-level honest, I feel awkward.

As a preacher's kid, I've usually found myself sitting on the front row on Sunday mornings. And with that, at times, I just feel like hundreds of eyes are constantly watching me. In this weird sense of self-awareness, I've begun shifting my focus during a time when I should only be focused on my Creator. I've started to let the hundreds of eye balls affect me, and the way I not only view, but express worship.

worship [wur-ship] noun, verb: reverent honor paid to God; adoring reverence; to feel or render adoration.

Worship is a posture, an expression, a way of living, lending one's life. For a while, I've framed it to be something to "do." But that's not the case. Worship is something we are...something I choose to be, a reflection of who or what I adore.

Worship is adoration.

It's never been about a song, raising your hands, closing your eyes, or even just standing still. It's about what you adore. Worship isn't a Sunday ritual, it's a minute-by-minute decision. Every minute we choose something to adore and express reverence for that thing or person. If I choose to adore coffee, I go crazy until I can get my hands on a fresh cup of French Press. If I choose to adore my career, I'll go to extreme lengths to achieve what I consider corporate success. If I choose to adore the eye balls in the seats behind me on Sundays, I focus all of my attention and energy on what I perceive their opinion of me is.

Worship is where you choose to set your affection.

In my misunderstanding and totally inside-the-box framing of worship, I stepped into this environment called a "Worship Barn" last night. I sat next to 15 other women facing different seasons and different decisions and listened to a precious woman share her heart on worship and the reality that it's ok to not be ok. And then, she turned on some worship music and asked us to stand. She didn't tell us to do anything. Just stand and express what you feel. God moved. He began this excavation of my heart that only He could do. He began re-framing the way I see this thing called worship. In those few minutes, God clearly spoke James 4v10 into the chambers of my heart: "Get on your knees before the Master." I hesitated. And this is the dialogue that literally began going through my mind:

That's a nice word, God. Thanks for that. 

No, Emily. Get on your knees before the Master. 

I don't really want to kneel down in front of these women I've never met before. I mean, God, I literally just told them I struggle with worship...so this would totally draw eye balls to me and I do not want that! 

Emily, right now you can break the chain. You can turn a corner. But you must do this now. Get on your knees. 

Ok.

As I knelt, I instantly felt this release, this sense of "it's ok to not be ok." Tears began rolling down my cheeks as I felt the presence of my Savior, I felt a deep adoration for this God who knows me and loves me exactly as I am. I felt the shift in what worship means...I stopped adoring the eye balls and began adoring the One who made all of those eye balls in the first place.

The next several hours seem like somewhat of a blur. I picked up paint brushes and painted. I thought about the words of James 4v10 and what comes after the simple nudge God spoke into my life—Get on your knees before the Master; it's the only way you'll ever get on your feet. And you know what is just so cool about all of this? In the past few months, as big decisions have come my way, James 4v10 has continually been a word at the fore-front of my mind, and God has brought me down on my knees (literally) to hear what He is trying to say. The fact that He brought James 4v10 to my mind in the Worship Barn collided obedience and worship for me. As I walk in obedience to God, I am worshipping Him. If worship is an act of adoration, obedience is most definitely the launching pad.

As the night drew to a close, one woman pulled me aside and told me what she saw not only in what I had painted, but what she saw in my life. I used a lot of yellow (a color I've been obsessed with lately!) and she said, "Emily, that yellow represents God's glory all over your life. Honey, you've got the spirit of Esther in you. You're going to have to walk into some big palaces straight to the king's throne and God's glory is going with you. He is all over you." I looked back into her eyes and was just utterly amazed at how God chose to step in and speak in ways that are just louder than audible ways. All I could feel was adoration...pure, satisfied adoration.

The Worship Barn leaders hand-picked a bookmark with words on it for each woman. When I received mine, I couldn't help but smile. In one more way, God confirmed what He's doing in this heart of mine, in this season of re-framing the way I view things. Literally—I couldn't make this up if I wanted to!—my card said this: God is excavating your heart. And you know what's even more over-the-top incredible? Those two Worship Barn leaders told me that 24 hours prior to this whole experience they knew that was the word I needed to hear...that confirming nudge that it's ok to not be ok and allow God to step in an re-frame this heart of mine.

Worship is adoration...the place you choose to set your affection. It's not something we do. It's an outpouring of who we are.

struggling to write

This isn't normal. Usually words pour out of me like the air I breathe. But for the past few weeks, I've been struggling to write. Struggling to put pen to paper.

And trust me, it's not for a lack of topics. I've actually made a list of posts to write, topics to dive into, and subjects to explore. I've read and researched. But I haven't written...or maybe more accurately, I just haven't sat down to write.

I think the bigger picture here though has to do with seasons. I haven't lost my ability to write or formulate my thoughts. Writing is still my therapy, my sweet spot, my medication. But the reality of my story is that 10 weeks ago I entered a new chapter and I think I've been struggling with how to share my voice in a chapter I have never seen before.

Up until now, writing about life has occurred in familiar, methodical territory. It feels like you're handed a road map to life that lasts until you hit college graduation and then you're on your own—welcome to adulthood. Before May 5th, I experienced life in a pattern set before me. Now, I've stepped into a new chapter, a new adventure, a time to explore, discover and continue becoming me.

So, no more putting off sitting down to write. It's time to grab my pen and talk about life after graduation. Talk about how I've jumped into a role I've always dreamed of, what I'm learning, experiencing, and how God is working in me.

Thanks for journeying with me...let the journey continue!

what a cruise taught me about college graduation

I'm officially a college graduate. I'm still getting used to the reality of that statement! May 5, 2013 was an exciting day as one chapter in my story came to a close and a new chapter began. To celebrate, my sister and I set sail on the Norwegian Sky for the Bahamas.

On the last night of the cruise, I sat on Deck 12, journaling some thoughts about graduation, next steps, and this crazy, exciting new season I was stepping into. One big idea stuck out to me: graduating from college is a lot like stepping onto a ship and sailing into new, untouched territory. It's parking your car, and stepping away from a way of traveling that was extremely familiar...and completely defined by guidelines and mile markers.  Take a peek into my journal to see what I mean...

A thin layer of salty sand cloaks my sun-kissed skin, the ocean's parting gift at the end of my Bahamian vacation. When I lick my lips, my tongue is greeted by this sugar of the sea, lingering warm and natural—as if it should always be there. I'm lounging poolside, the final rays of sunshine penetrating my skin, whispering, "just a little bit more." 

The ocean seems endless, ongoing, and unpredictable. From my vantage point, it doesn't seem like there's a path to follow...there are no highway signs, no double yellow lines dictating which side of the road you travel on. The ocean, in stark contrast to a road, is open and free, an empty, inviting slate. Yet, in what seems like a giant bowl of bright, blue kool-aid that we could get lost in, we always ended up where we needed to be, settling in a port, ready for the day's sunny excursion. At the end of the day, the control room of the ship, hidden and unseen by the average eye, is what guided the Norwegian Sky to each port of call. Without our Captain, we wouldn't have reached our destinations safely.

I know there are many technicalities to this, but this is all I see: the vast horizon and endless possibilities. I can't help but think of this new chapter, or season, of my life as something like this. I'm sailing in the midst of bright, huge territory, where the opportunities and possibilities seem massive and endless. Exciting and terrifying all at the same time. In the end, the core foundation to this season is trusting God to guide me and learning to follow His markings. It's tasting every flavor, savoring every moment, and drinking deep the rich friendships surrounding me. It's gazing at the horizon with all the hope and intensity I can muster—and loving every minute of the journey.

Welcome to the journey of uncharted territory. When I walked across that stage in the O'Connell Center, I ditched the road map and signs along the highway. This is a season to embrace a God who's bigger than what I can see, and trust that He knows what's best.

stripping off the rags

I have clothed you with purpose.

Those words make my heart melt. Yesterday, I was reading Beth Moore's book, So Long, Insecurity, and in the particular chapter I was honing in on, Beth focused on Proverbs 31v25: "She is clothed with strength and dignity." Hang tight for a moment while I give some context to my opening statement. She. Is. Clothed. With. Strength. And. Dignity. Here, Beth reveals the fact that the majority of times we feel insecure come from when we feel overexposed...uncovered...at risk for someone to come along and see us for who we really are:

"I have come to a place where I'm willing to be transparent with my insecurity, but I find great relief that human eyes have to see it through the filter—the clothing—of my God-given strength and dignity. I don't have to stand before you or anybody else in total emotional nakedness. I have a scriptural covering that gives me the courage to expose my most personal self."

What I love about this truthful awakening is the fact that I am covered and I am clothed, made complete by God. He prepares me for the occasion before me.

This morning while taking communion at Church of Hope, I spent a few silent moments with God. What took my breath away was what I heard. No, I didn't hear a shout or an audible confirmation through a microphone. But I heard distinctly and clearly one sentence that's been on repeat in my brain since: I have clothed you with purpose.

In that moment, I felt God's future bursting into my present. Just minutes before, I was challenged with one question: what is it that I'm not trusting God in? Ouch. Here is where I usually try to justify my attempts at controlling a destination, when God has, in reality, called me to a direction. Living in the land between is a cocktail of adventure, opportunity, fun, and fear all mingled with emotions that make you feel like you're on a roller coaster. And sometimes that makes me feel overexposed, unprepared, and naked.

But trusting God and brokenness go hand-in-hand. It isn't until I come to the end of me, until I see my roller coaster mixture of fear as it is—a false attempt at control—and place that jumbled mess in the hands of my Creator, that the aroma of me is fully enjoyed. You see, I'm beginning to learn that the stuff to really be enjoyed in life...and I mean the stuff that life is truly made of—real, lasting, genuine joy, hope, love, confidence and strength—is found in brokenness, despair and hurt. I'm no Debbie-Downer and I'm not advocating living in self-degradation. I'm just saying it's time to stop trying to clothe ourselves with decaying, worn-out rags. It's time to strip the rags off and allow Christ to clothe us.

In the wandering of life and in the broken moments of despair, I come to the very end of me. I see me for who I really am and come to truly understand that if Jesus doesn't show up, it's game over. It's in that kind of trust that a joy I can't even explain comes pouring out.

This morning, in my own life, this simply looked like a girl opening up her hands to Jesus, asking Him to fill her. Stripping off my filthy, worn-out rags of fear and control, Jesus reached down, grabbed my hand and whispered, "I have clothed you with purpose." My story is headed somewhere and I'm going to be ok. Do I have the answers to what that somewhere looks like? Nope. The beautiful thing is I don't need them to thrive. I am clothed with purpose. My story is headed somewhere.

what coffee taught me about brokenness

Hitting my alarm clock with perhaps a little too much fervor, my brain tried to sort through the fog of typical morning questions like where am I? what day is it? am I supposed to be going to school? and why was I dreaming that I was going to Mexico? After I sorted through my confusion, I smiled, remembering I'm on Christmas break and can wake up lazily, enjoying the morning. In light of this revelation, I grabbed a sweatshirt and headed to the kitchen to make a fresh cup of French Press coffee.

Now, if you've never made a good 'ole cup of French Press, you're missing out. This is the BEST morning pick-me-up remedy out there. It's a simple process and delivers results that leave your taste buds dancing. But enough about that, back to the story at hand.

I found my way to the kitchen and began dumping heaping scoops of coffee beans into the French Press, topped with boiling water, and then sauntered off for a few minutes to let it steep.

Little did I realize that I had missed a vital step.

Instantly, as I poured my cup, I realized something was wrong. Coffee is not supposed to look like tea. And then it clicked. You're not supposed to put WHOLE coffee beans in the French Press! In order to make a delicious, flavor-filled cup of coffee, you must first grind the beans, breaking them apart.

Welcome round two.

After making my second round and inhaling that first delicious sip, I began thinking about life and what those coffee beans represented in me. Often, I forget (and perhaps don't want to accept!) that it's in being broken that the full flavor of me is exposed and poured out onto the world around me. 

I don't tend to appreciate brokenness. In fact, I run as fast as I can away from it. I've experienced it too many times and the uncomfortable weight of helplessness surrounding me makes me wish I had control. 

I think I'm supposed to live in brokenness though.

When I'm broken, there's nothing left of me...the only thing left for me to do is trust God. There are so many things in my life that I can't control: what I'll be doing after I graduate from college, if a relationship will work out or not, if my friendships will stand the test of time, where I'll live...the list could go on. And this is the point when I usually try to control those looming question marks in my life. I wrap them into tiny little coffee bean shapes and place them neatly in the French Press of my life. But I pillow my head at night dissatisfied because my life tastes like tea when I ordered coffee, flavorless and dull.

Do I believe God wants me to live in a broken state, depressed and in despair? Not at all. It's what I choose to do next in my brokenness and uncertainty that makes all the difference.

When I look at those looming question marks, what I do with them is what matters. I can either embrace the fact that I am not in control and allow everything of me to be broken, leaving room for me to trust God completely; or I can package my life into neat portions and live thinking I'm in control, but in reality feeling truly miserable.

Rich flavor is only found in brokenness. I want to become a person who lets her hair down, ditches perfection, wanders well, and welcomes brokenness with open arms.

words that were meant for me.

Sometimes you hear words and know they were meant specifically for you. It's that gut-wrenching moment when you look a stranger in the eye and wonder if they've been reading your journal or have some sort of super power that enables them to see your innermost thoughts. This, my friends, is exactly what I experienced today.

Yesterday I spent several hours taking a deep, hard look at myself and who I've become. I'm learning that my decisions lead me somewhere and it's in the journey that the "somewhere" is revealed...and frankly, I didn't like the somewhere I was seeing. I did not like who I was becoming. Largely, I discovered (pretty obviously!) that I had exchanged joy for worry and the prison of perfection. Needless to say, I assessed my becoming journey and decided I needed to make some changes.

Fast-forward to today. I wake up, grab my standard cup of coffee, throw on my TOMS, and head to Church of Hope to run the 9:00 gathering's slides. During the month of December, different families are lighting candles in recognition of advent. As Scott and Holly Lanker walked up to their microphone, I clicked the correct slide and began to listen to their story (see below!). And it hit me like a ton of bricks. This couple, who I don't know personally, was speaking directly to me....I don't think that Scott & Holly sharing their story and understanding of what "joy" means was a coincidence today. In fact, I believe God stepped in, grabbed my hand, and whispered, "Baby girl, you're doing just fine. Breathe in my joy. Trust me regardless of the circumstances. Wait for me. I will show up. It's who I am."

And boy did He show up today. Thank you, Scott & Holly for reminding me what true joy is.

*****

Holly & Scott Lanker

As I started to pray and reflect on the topic of "joy" in preparation for this reading, my first thought was to talk about all the reasons I have to be joyful this season. A loving family, a great relationship with my beautiful wife, three delightful, healthy kids, a nice house to live in, a career that I love, good friends to share life with, a great church, a free country in which I can worship God freely...the list goes on and on. A lot of us in this room could come up with quite a long list if we really thought about it long enough.

Yet we have also experienced difficulties in the past year. The closing of our former church, which we loved. The busyness and stress of Scott's job and raising three children, ages four and younger. For me personally, the experience of joy does not always come easily, but it in the daily choices I make. Joy comes when I choose to let the focus of my heart not be on my circumstances, but on who Christ is and what He has done.

This Advent season, when I am faced with daily stresses and frustrations, I ask myself, "how should I experience joy in this moment? Am I allowing the joy of the Lord to be my strength?" And now, as a mother of young children, my heart breaks for the families in Connecticut that have experienced unspeakable tragedy this week. Where is the joy in that?

Even the Bible is filled with stories of people who had every reason in the world not to be happy. Look at John the Baptist: he spent his life wandering around in the desert telling people to repent, and then got thrown in prison and spent the last part of his life stuck there, questioning whether or not his entire life and ministry was in vain, until at last in finally ended and he got beheaded. What about Paul, and all his experiences? Why would he have the joy he claimed to have, when he said he "rejoiced in his sufferings"?

If Christmas is just about reflecting on the happy things in our lives, that's all well and good for those who happen to be going through a season of life that they enjoy...but what about everybody else? Can they all really be expected to be smiling during "the most wonderful time of the year"? Not to be a scrooge, but isn't it a little ridiculous to expect that all the "good people of the world" should be happy at the exact same time every year, singing songs about memories none of us ever actually had? I never met "Parson Brown." I never rode on a sleigh as a child, and although I have eaten roasted chestnuts, I didn't think they were anything to write home about: why should I expect songs about those things to make me and everyone else feed good about life? It occurs to me that joy is something totally different. Joy is not in circumstances. I am truly blessed, and thank God for all the things in my life today that I have to be thankful for. But if that all went away, I would still have reason to be joyful.

Joy is what Christ brought to us: it is having hope that this world is not our home. It is knowing that we have a loving Savior who gave his life for us, and that no matter what happens here in this life, we can know that this isn't all there is to it, and that we can spend eternity with Him, experiencing nothing but love, free from pain, loss, or unhappiness. Joy because He came. Joy because He is still here. Immanuel. God with us.