Cider + a Table for One

Twenty million thoughts in my head and nowhere for them to go.

Losing the potential presence of "him" in my life wasn't hard at all, but hearing words like "I tried but I didn't feel it with you" and "there just wasn't anything there for me" are cruel words for a woman to hear. Well, for anyone, for that matter, I'd wager. As I walked down those downtowns little streets next to him, I really wasn't sad over the fact that his presence wouldn't deepen in my life. Because truth? I hadn't been "feeling" it either. But what was breaking me was that this was the second time in the space of 2 months that I had heard these words coming from the man at my side.

However they worded it, however they cushioned it with compliments and self-blame, all I could really hear was:

You're not good enough.

Hard, hard words. Hard enough to hear once. But twice? Try shattering. Devastating.

I've felt very fragile since then. Small. Deficient. Self-conscious. Like Ebenezer Scrooge, an "unwanted creature."

And embarrassed. Even though neither of these two men had meant it that way, I was embarrassed that in their analyzing of me as a potential mate, I'd been found lacking something.

And I don't even really know what that something is. Can everyone see it, but just not me?

I know that it simply meant that we just weren't meant for each other. With this second guy, that's hardly a jump to accept, as I was kind of seeing it all along (the first guy? well, that's another story...). I know that all this was simply an "elimination" of the wrong guy. No big deal, right? Sigh. If only my heart could feel what my head knows.

There's no happy ending to this micro-story other than the hot caramel cider I'm sipping on as I watch my small-town, rainy-day pass by me through the spray-on-snow covered windows of my favorite vintage café. Just the warm cider in my belly at a table for one.

However I may not stand up to the measuring stick that others may hold me up to, despite it all...I do have a simple confidence in my heart that I am still loved, cherished and deemed worthy by Jesus.

Monday | Brethren

My church has been one of God's great gifts to me in the past year. For years, in fact, almost ten years, I had been in many ways, “churchless.” The churches I attended were good churches but none of them fed the thirsty recesses of my soul. One church I simply attended because it was were my family went and when I finally beat my retreat, I was battered and beaten up, my faith in doubting chaos due to a theology that painted God as a dictator demanding our subservience. I found a safe place at my next church, a place to lick my wounds, heal and remember again who God REALLY is. I was safe but I still didn't feel fed. And then I went from there to not attending church at all, when I got a job that had me working every Sunday for basically a year and a half straight. My soul suffered and I prayed so often for a church where the Spirit felt alive, the worship was with abandon and people actually were convicted and moved by the Spirit in their daily lives. I didn't know of any. Anywhere. This is California, after all.

And then, out of the blue, like a gift of sweet peace, He gave me my church. I visited on a whim with a friend (strength in numbers) and I knew from that first Sunday that this was where I was meant to be. It was real. It wasn't bound by traditionalism neither was it wrapped up in being modern and “up to date,” while yet having a hip vibe all it's own that sang to the part of me burnt by the “traditional” church (we meet in an old theater, the one my mom first watched The Sound of Music 30 years ago, how cool is that??). The people worshiped. People cried as they were fed by truth, convicted in fallibility, in awe of His infallibility. The sermon wasn't just a theological monologue or even one of simple “practical application.” It was just Jesus, sweet Jesus, calling us to be radical, to be humble, to cry out, to forsaken all idols, cast aside weights and chains, to throw ourselves down on our faces before God in full surrender. A call to life outside the box and inside the fullness of Christ.

This was home for my soul. From that first Sunday, I put my foot down at work and fought for Sundays off and thanks be to God, it happened and I've been going there ever since. It's been eight months and each Sunday feels like waterfalls of life flooding my soul. I've cried, tears running down my face, mascara smearing as I've once again been in a group of people where Jesus is part of it all, people who worship. I've been broken down, scrubbed out and healed up.

I'm so thankful for my church, so thankful for the godly, brave and bold leadership of my pastors who I pray for almost every day. I'm so thankful to have a place to go where Jesus is worshiped with passion. A place where the Holy Spirit really moves, where you see people in rapt adoration of our Jesus.

This church has been one of the greatest answers to pray and sweetest gifts that God has given me. Thanks, Jesus. You know I love you.

Healing

I'm choked up with tears right now. Not because of something bad but because of something amazingly good. A few years ago, my heart was ripped to shreds, I thought I would never heal. But I did heal and Christ was my Healer. My Jehovah Rapha. It took time, a long time, but faithfully, steadily, beautifully, I healed.

Today as I find my heart aching and maybe asking a few questions of God, maybe feeling a little unsure about God's ability to heal me yet again...I am undone by His heart beating next to mine, whispering to me of His past faithfulness to heal. And His present faithfulness to heal.

Jeremiah 33:10-11:

"Thus says the Lord: in this place of which you say, 'it is a waste without man or beast,' in the cities of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem that are desolate, without man or inhabitant or beast, there shall be heard again the voice of mirth and the voice of gladness, the voice of the bridegroom and the voice if the bride, the voices of those who sing, as the bring thank offerings to the house of the Lord: 'Give thanks to the Lord of hosts, for the Lord is good, for His steadfast love endures forever!' For I will restore the fortunes of the land as at first, says the Lord.

Its Lonely Being an Adult

Being an adult is awesome. You have your own car, your own money. You make your own choices about when and where. You can be independent, do things your way and there are so many things you can do as an adult.

But no one ever told me how lonely it can be as an adult.

When I used to imagine my adulthood, I always saw myself married, with kids, part of some kind of youth ministry, doing fun things with my similarly married girlfriends, planning meals and grocery lists and so much more.

The only thing in that list that's happened is that all my friends are married. I'm basically the last one. What's more - the little siblings of my friends are now getting married.

Being married means you have someone you want to talk to first before your friends. Being single means...you're left with no one to talk to.

Its very lonely being an adult.

A Blog About My Heart

I've been a Christian all my life, yet somehow I missed out on the glory of forgiveness.

I've been striving to be a good girl, while missing out on what righteousness really is.

In the past few months, after 27 years of being that good girl, I walked away from the things I knew were right and gave away many things that were precious in the sight of God. Things that were also precious to me. My heart. My integrity. My body.

It was nothing it promised to be. Empty treasure boxes, stolen gems. I wrestle daily with my vandalism of myself.

But two words now characterize my very life. Those words?

Forgiveness. Righteousness.

Most importantly,

HIS forgiveness and HIS righteousness.