Beneath the Surface

God is so worthy to be praised. 

"God said "Let there be light."

And was there ever.

It flowed from Him like a song, poured out in purity and radiance. 

But what is light without refraction? What is light without the defining dark? 

Thus God painted boldly His story of perfection in the midst of brokenness, beauty splattered in filth, strength bowed in humility, wholeness seared with pain.

 These are the things into which the angels long to look; the face of God that shines on his shattered image is a side they will never see. How dazzling His light reflects off the facets of a splintered likeness! 

We look into the face of a savior, Redeemer, while the heavenly beings see only "Creator".'

Hello all!
Well I have some very exciting news! For some time now, I have wanted to write a series of short stories which would be biblical accounts told from a different perspective. I've had a list of stories and Bible characters compiled and finally at youth camp (which I still have so much to write about!) I was given the opportunity to begin. Long story short, there was a writing competition to see who could write the best story about their team during camp. My team's theme was "Israelites and Egyptains" and I decided to write about the Exodus from the perspective of a random Israelite woman. I loved this challenge of writing this account and have decided now is the perfect time for me to start writing this series. I am even now praying about the idea of writing a book, though like I said, its right now something I'm praying about. I have now written a few of these biblical stories, but wanted to take the time to share the one that started it all with you! I started another blog to keep track of a few stories and some sneak peaks. The blog is called Retold though I'm still tinkering with some names. So let me know what you think!

Well here it is folks! I made it all the way to the final post of my week long challenge. It was pretty difficult, but I did it. Today, I stuggled with what I wanted to post tonight. I feel like since it's the end, there must be a grand finale. I felt like this post needs to change the world and inspire and wow. I suppose that's a good word for it; I wanted this to be a "wow" kind of post. Then it hit me. It wasn't a "wow" but rather a "why". It was near the start of the summer that someone asked me why I blogged. They said to me, "I just honestly don't get the point." Though I can't remember exactly what I said, it was probably some sort of silly, crowd-pleaser answer. Yet this week, this little marble of a thought has been rolling around my nogin. Why do I blog? The answer now seems so easy.
I pray that first off, this blog would be to the glory of God. I pray that the words I type here would turn people's eyes to the Father and would cause them to want to pursue God more. This then leads me to reason number two. I write because I want to touch other people. There are people from across the street, across the country and across the world whose blogs I have read that have touched me deeper than they will ever know. God has used men and women who will never know my name or face, to speak to me through what they have written.

There are so many people in the world who speak for the enemy's cause. There are so many who he cunningly uses as a voice and who with poisioned tongues make their mark. It grieves my spirt to see men rally behind these people. I pray that I would fulfill my call as am ambassador for Christ, sharing the light of God's Word with the world He has placed me in.

Now I certainly do not place myself among the best of writers, but I write from my heart. I write what God is doing in me and what I believe to be truth. I will fight for these truths and I pray that they edify and encourage those around me. I am not one who can make an audience hang on every word. I know I am not the most educated or have the most riviting vocabulary. I know the things which I write may not have that "wow" factor I spoke of earlier. But I also know that that the Word of God has power. I know that I am a chosen instrument in the hand of the mighty God. I know that I want God to have His way, even in the most humble of means, even my blog.

The truth is, I wrote a great many posts for tonight and, perhaps another day, I will finish my trains of thought and post them. Tonight however, as my challenge comes to a close, I felt impressed to merely get one truth across if nothing else. That I want everything I do, every word I speak, every relationship I hold and every day of my life to glorify God. There is a definite weight I feel in posting every time, for I know that the words I write can glorify God, but just as easily glorify self. I pray that this blog would be an instrument God can use and that He is given glory. It all belongs to Him anyway.

I always get excited when I see cute and classy old people just living their life. A silent observer, I love to watch the way the passed generations live life. I love watching sharp-dressed old gents and the little woman on their arm smiling up at them as they read the paper or chat over coffee. I think, "Goodness, I want to be classy like that."

Class. It was something that most people used to strive for. Yet today it has fallen by the wayside to make room for who knows what. I want to be a person of class, of dignity and of sophistication. Perhaps this seems silly, or maybe even snobbish, but I beg of you, please hear me out. There once was a day when manners were expected. Women wore dresses and men did not leave the house without a collared shirt and tie. People treated one another as people, not as machines behind desks meant to met their every need. People spoke using lovely words, being wise and purposeful with every notion that made its way passed the gateway of their lips. There was a discreteness that was taught in the classroom, and before that, the home.  People lived with a sense on intentionality. They thought about what they wore, what the spoke and how they lived. I suppose this is truly the heart of this post. What at first seemed  to just be a discussion of my love of classy things, now takes a step in a new direction. It's the heart behind having a desire for class. Striving for class in and of itself seems petty. Yet living with intentionality? Now that is worth a discussion. 

I have a challenge for you. Talk to an old person. Talk to someone who built a business they loved from the ground up. Talk to someone who has served God daily, strong and true.  Talk to an old man who has loved his wife faithfully for 50 years. Talk to the woman who raised her children right. Ask them not just about what happened, but how it happened. Ask them how they thought and all that it took, day in and day out. Intentionality and hard work. After all, the "classy" life isn't easy. It takes more time to get ready in the morning, takes more sweat, more blood and tears. It takes commitment and devotion, passion and persistence. It takes true love and a fighting spirit. But what beauty there is in looking back over a life like that!

I want this kind of life, and it is my prayer that you do as well. A life devoted to God, built on faith, hard work and intentionality. A marriage that lasts upwards of 50 years. Children that serve God passionately and teach theirs to do the same. Friends that are loyal and dear. I want a life story that is worth telling at the end and every step through the journey.

And wearing dresses often doesn't hurt much either (:

Here we are again...day number 5! (:

 Today, is the starting mark for my 19th year of life. I must say, 19 feels strange, perhaps because it doesn't really feel like anything at all. It's not by far old, but not too young either. And the understanding that next few years will determine a great deal of the course I will take in life is somewhat intimidating. I realize  that this time is so incredibly crucial. Yet, it is not like I'm really starting anything new, nor am I crossing a finish line. I am somewhere in the middle in this race we call life.

There is a song that has touched me time and time again called, "Time in Between." In it, the artist speaks of how thankful she is for the time in between in life. That Jesus would come to the earth, not in glory, but in lowliness and would live each and every day until He was glorified. Jesus' birth was celebrated, there was that brief spat of time when we see him at age 12, then suddenly, a chapter later, he's 30 years old. It's strange to think Jesus was once 5, once 11, once 17, and once 23. That there was a year in Jesus' life called "19" just as there is for me. Every day, Jesus had to wake up and choose the Father's will. The Bible says He was tempted and tried just as we are, yet without sin. Jesus had to live every single one of those days out, in real time. Jesus had to walk though "the time in between."

The time in between makes all the difference. The time between conception and birth. The time between caterpillar and butterfly. Between young and old.

So often, we look at the starts and the finishes in life. We forget that it is the time in between that actually makes them worthwhile at all. It's the every day choices and the moments of decision. It's waking up every morning, being a person of character, living according to the Word of God. It's daily choosing to be the best Christian, mother, father, brother, sister, husband, wife, leader and friend we can be.

Perhaps you are a young person waiting on your future mate. Maybe you are working hard finish school. Maybe your waiting for your children to finally be able to take care of themselves. Regardless, we are all on a journey in some arena of our lives. I do not pretend to believe the time in between is easy. Surely it is one of the most frustrating places and is extremely uncomfortable. It feels pointless, tiring, stressful and crippling. It makes you feel antsy, restless and even annoyed. It's reminiscent of that tingling sensation when your foot falls asleep, and no matter how much you try to make the tingle stop, you keep feeling pricked, reminded that the experience is not yet over. Yet what I have come to realize is that the time in between is crucial. It's the ordinary days that make the extraoridinary days, well, extraordinary. It's the daily words spoken, thoughts pondered and decisions made that make all the difference. It's the time in between. And it's beautiful.

Day 4, over half-way there! 

Puzzle pieces and fragments. There are days when I look at my life and this is all I see. Though some the pieces are colorful and lovely, the more I look at them, the less sense they seem to make. Why Lord? God, sometimes I just don't understand why my life is the way it is. I adore the life I have been given. I love every piece of it, but that's just the thing; while I like most of the pieces (while there are those also which I despise and which frustrate me), I don't always see how they fit together to make a whole.

I don't understand why I am constantly plagued with thoughts too big and even too deep to fully wrap my mind around, yet I try to comprehend them only further frustrating myself. I don't get why I sometimes have to fight back monsters that I have already defeated. I don't understand why I am quirky and often say the wrong thing. I don't always understand why God lays certain burdens upon my heart that I can never shake. I don't understand why God makes me wait...and wait...and when I finally think I'm done waiting, to wait still a little longer.

I always want all the little puzzle pieces to magically zoom to their places so I can finally make sense of things. I know that the big picture that God created my life to look like is beautiful and masterfully designed. I understand that when I get to view it in its fullness and grandeur that I will loose my words, and even my breath, at the sight of what my King has created and woven together. Sadly, I often don't see the big picture. The truth is, most of the time, none of us do.

It causes me to think of the disciples. Though Jesus had again and again told them of his death and resurrection, they still did not understand it. Yet after Jesus had risen and came to them once more, Luke 24:45 tells us that "he opened their minds to understand the Scriptures." He then went on to explain the Father's plan. Jesus is the one who makes the puzzle make sense. 

Though I often don't understand the specifics of my life or the questions that seem to steal my peace, I find the key to my puzzled mind in Christ. Though I may not know who I will marry, where I will live, or could write out exactly the plot line of my life for the next 50 years, I know who my God is and what He is capable of. I know that He is my source and the One who knows the beginning from the end. It is during times such as these I treasure the pieces I am given, understand that I may not understand them, then cast my gaze upon the only One who does. The One who made the puzzle from the beginning with every delicate brushstroke.

Day 3 in the week of posts!

Sticky. That's what it's like writing this post. No, I did not spill maple syrup all over my computer. What I mean to say that in writing right now is feels sticky in that it is difficult to find the words to write it. Today, I had a million thoughts bouncing around through my head, but none of them seemed truly worthy of posting. So I just started. The cursor blinking at me mockingly, each word was somewhat of a drudgery. Like pulling tired legs through knee-high sand, I felt the weight of writing tonight. In fact, I feel it now as I type this very sentence. Yet with each character, something sparked within me. This is what life it like! Sometimes, life is sticky. Sometimes there are things that we are to do, but they don't quite come as easily as we would desire. Sometimes it may feel uncomfortable. It may be the changing of a bad habit. It may be stepping out in faith at work. Possibily it means speaking to someone who intimidates you or telling someone how you really feel. It may be starting the project that seems impossible and is looming over you at every turn.  The point is, sticky times call for action. Sometimes, you just have to start. Start thinking, typing, talking and walking it out. Open up, step out, go on and move forward. As I began this post, I felt stuck. I also won't pretend that all the "sticky-ness" of this post has magically disappeared. Yet what I realize it that by starting, I accomplished what I set out to do. I wrote. I fought against "sticky" and came out victorious. And I did it all with 31 minutes left on the clock.

Day 2 of my week challenge! Buckle your seatbelts!

 

Alright. This post may at first make me "creeper status", but allow me to explain. It is said that the average person spends such-and-such amount of time sitting at stoplights. Though I do not know this exact amount of time, I would suspect it to be quite a lot. I personally use this time to watch people in the opposite turn lane, perhaps you have done the same. I love to watch people in their cars as they drive passed me. I am always overwhelmed by how many people I feel like I have never seen. I ponder them, sitting there at that obnoxious red light teasing me. I wonder who they are. What is their family like? Where are they going? Who are the people they love the most? What do they believe about life and what caused them to think that way? What have the seen, who have they talked to, and what experiences have shaped their world-view in the time they have tread this green earth? 

It is just so crazy to me that I can live in the same town with so many people and only come to know a select few. There have been so many times I have been doing this, and end up getting honked at by the row of cars behind me as the light has been green for almost 3 of their precious seconds. Yet I wouldn't trade this time for the world. Why? I suppose it is because I know that it affects me in a way I find difficult to construct into sentences and words. It helps me to expand my vision, open wide my often blinded eyes, and actually recognize how many people live day by day without the Lord. It helps me to remember the tremendous worth of the human soul that so often gets brushed aside with my busy schedule. It keeps me from forgetting that I and my circle are not the only people alive, but that there are so many opportunities around us. Every person we encounter every day has a story. You never know just who may be on the edge of breaking. Who's loved one just passed away. Who doesn't know how the rent will get paid. Who is afraid that their parents won't stay together. It could be your barista, the lady sitting at table 10, the old man staring into the distance, the young mom trying to control crying children.  There are constantly people all around us, but do we take the time to lift our eyes and look?Are we staring at the red lights in life, that make us impatiently wait, or do we look at the waiting as the opportunity to make an impact? Take the time to take your eyes off the blockade that may be in front of you, and lift your eyes to see the world around you.  You may be surprised how God can use you when you do. It may even surprise you further how quickly that red light in your life changes to green.

Challenge time! About a year ago, I did a small personal challenge on my blog. This challenge was to write one post a day for a whole week. I remember this stretched me and caused me to think, but I loved it. That is why I decided to bring back the one week challenge. For the next seven days I will post once every single day. I have no clue what this week will hold, but I invite you to take this journey with me all the same!

Here's today's post:

I distinctly remember when I was first learning to play my harp. For hours I would play, and so often after so long of my fingers striking the notes, pulling at the rough strings, my skin would break and my fingers would bleed. Yet after the blood was shed, dried and forgotten, my fingers daily grew stronger. After a while, calluses began to grow. As this process continued, I realized that my new-found strength has been brought forth through what once was pain. Loneliness is like this. Trials are like this. Life is like this. Lonely times are never fun to encounter. In fact, as we strike our lives against strings of loneliness, sometimes we may bleed a little…or a lot. But oh how good it is! How much is it to our benefit! How a little bloodshed brings a deeper strength. Now do not think here that I mean we ought to wallow in our loneliness or lament again and again over our pain. Yet we must be able to allow it to transform us and be made better through it. Calluses form, not to keep us back or to keep us from relationship, but instead to make us more apt to play beautiful melodies. Because I have bled, I now can better perform. Sometimes pain brings forth strength and ability to do and be so much more. I thank God for letting me to go through lonely times, for allowing me to sometimes bleed for my own benefit. Now I am more able to play on for His glory.

 Boating on the lake. Freezing under piles of blankets. Eating food cooked over a fire. Spending nearly 5 hours playing Monopoly. Singing worship and having devotions in the woods. Cribbage tournaments. Video shoots. Dusty feet, mosquito repellant and sunscreen. It can only mean one thing...

I have a confession. Today, I had a bad attitude for an hour. Today, I probably said or thought something I shouldn’t have. Today, I was an icky sinner. What a concept!

I was reading a blog earlier where a girl spoke about how she writes about her day as something fantastic and how it makes her sound so unreal. She writes,

If you havent noticed yet, I have been updating my blog quite a bit lately. I now have these lovely little tabs at the top of the page where you can go to check out my favorite quotes, growth journals, my other blog and other blogs that inspire me. So go on, use them!

Over the past few days, a thought has been plaguing my mind and continues to arise within my every conversation. Today, it came as I spoke to some dear friends, a topic that is so stirring, so real. We do not know the world in which we live. Our generation calls desperately for attention and has found it in things unheard of 50 years ago. We want to be noticed, maybe more than ever before. We sat, discussing how our generation is that which cries so desperately for purpose, seeks so intently for meaning and for life, wants to have a cause for which it will fight, yet settles for complacency, apathetically accepting the world as it is.

Alright, so here it is. I love blogs. About a month ago, I stumbled across this great little blog and one of the best parts is that there is a new post on it everyday! The author’s name is Emily and this blog is called “An Object.” Every single day, she writes about an inanimate object and I must say, I adore it! I love her heart, her writing style and the opportunity to drink in the beauty of how she views the little things in life. I am an avid follower and wanted to share this little gem on my blogs. So here it is! Check her out at www.anobjectblog.blogspot.com Go on, do it! You won’t be disappointed! (:

How awesome would it have been to have learned from and studied under the Apostle Paul? Reading today through the books of 1 and 2 Timothy, I could not help but ponder it. What must it have been like to glean from his God-given wisdom? To have received one of his letters, written in his own hand, addressed personally to you and chalked full of charges and encouragements? To have spoken to him, be known to him by name? Yet as my mind contemplated these things, a realization began to sink in. I am Paul’s student. Just as he taught Timothy, so he also teaches me. But wait, there is so much more! Not only do I have Paul as an instructor, but a Bible full of divine mentors. Yet even this does not come near to what follows.

Quotation marks are funny things. We see them an immediately it's as if all our senses are forced to hone in on what is to follow. We are not fooled. If there be quotation marks, what they contain is important. Personally, I love quotes. For a while now, I have been compiling a list of my favorites and decided to share a few of them on here. If you want to see them, check out the above tab. I hope you enjoy them and allow them to inspire you as much as they have done for me. Enjoy! (:

We are beings that see with such jaded eyes. Many times, it’s almost as if there be a thin glaze, a cloudy transparency, a blockade that keeps us from seeing as we should. We view the world in its splendor and man in his tremendous worth and disregard so much. Oh the sharing of a heart, the touching of one’s soul! We see flesh covered bones more often than masqueraded souls. Precious gems of the heart are tucked behind our natural gaze and escape our petty thoughts. We seek a view of surface gliding than the adventure of diving to the depths of one’s being.

She was walking though the local grocery store with her father, a girl on a mission. A mission to buy a gallon of milk. As she briskly strode through the aisles, the chill of the refrigerator section sent chills through her body. Finally reaching the back, milk in hand, they made their way toward the check stand. While her father chatted with the cashier, her eyes wandered, pursuing that candies and magazines typical to every store, designed to entice customers for that last second buy. Their purchase made, they dawdled towards the exit. That’s when it happened. A boy sitting only 15 feet away. Their eyes met, if only for a second, but it was still plenty of time to make an impact. She knew him. Knew his name. Knew that they had gone to school together. Knew that he came to church that one time. And with the way he looked at her, she knew he knew her too. They were not close, he and her. In fact, they were not even friends. But they knew one another, and that’s when it hit her. As she walked past him without a second glance, something dropped in her stomach. A realization.

Today she had seen three others like him. People that she knew from a variety of places, to whom she did not say a word. Not one of them, as far as she knew, a Christian. How often every day she lives her life in such a manner. It disgusted her. How can see live in a world among the perishing while never trying to save them. Though she certainly did open her mouth and speak to random “run-ins” quite often, there were also times she stood distant. So often she bore the uncomfort of seeing a past acquaintance, a face matched with a name, as she strode through life. How difficult would it be to muster a smile, a simple greeting perhaps? Would it kill her to merely ask about their day, their life and perhaps even go as far as inviting them to church? Yet again and again, she played ignorant, covering her eyes and quieting her conscience to excuse her from interaction. How silly. How uncaring. How many God-made appointments has she missed, not because she was not present, but due to her own unwillingness and selfish desire to stay comfortable? No more can she stand back. No more will she justify a missed appointment due to the making of another. Every appointment is important, every soul of priceless worth.

"When my heart is overwhelmed, and I cannot hear your voice, I'll hold on to what is true, though I cannot see...staying desperate for you God, staying humbled at your feet, I will lift these hands in faith, I will believe."


Lord, this is often how I feel. I feel overwhelmed. I feel like I can't hear you, like I can't see - but this is where I must hold to what is true - your Word is true God, it will surely come to pass. Lord, I want to stay desperate for you. I want my eyes locked on you, my heart holding fast to your truth, your word. This is where I choose to set my heart Lord.

I don't like feeling desperate, yet I want to be desperate for you. I don't like the discomfort that thirst brings, but I want to be thirsty for you. Lord, never let me get so callused, so numb that I no longer long nor feeling longing for you. Here is where I find a difference between comfort and peace. Comfort is easy-going, relaxed and comfortable. I do not wish for comfort. Peace however is being able to feel steady and secure, or at least to know that I am even when the storm is at its worst. Peace happens even in the midst of chaos. Comfort will flee in the presence of pain, yet it is peace that braves the wind and waves.

Though thirst and desperation are uncomfortable, the God of peace I seek with a thirsty spirit and a desperate heart. Lord, I hold tightly to your word. I know your promises are good and that you are faithful. I am desperate for you. This is the honest cry of my heart. I want You God, even if it means discomfort. I choose your Word, your promises, holding on even when comfort calls to let go. My trust is in you. Thank you Lord for all your promises.
Your face alone will I seek.

"O God, I have tasted Thy goodness, and it has both satisfied me and made me thirsty for more. I am painfully conscious of my need for further grace. I am ashamed of my lack of desire. O God, the Triune God, I want to want Thee; I long to be filled with longing; I thirst to be made more thirsty still. Show me Thy glory, I pray Thee, so that I may know Thee indeed. Begin in mercy a new work of love within me. Say to my soul, 'Rise up my love, my fair one, and come away.' Then give me a grace to rise and follow Thee up from this misty lowland where I have wandered so long."
- A. W. Tozer