Singleness Series // Part Two // Life with Purpose

I have a sinking feeling that I'm going to step on some toes here- but I pray this is read how it was intended: sharing my heart after much prayer and with the longing to help other single women as they find their way in this season. Read on with a sincere and soft heart, yes?

Thanks. 

So, you're single.

What are you supposed to do?

With so many different opinions, demands, and theologies, it can get overwhelming and confusing. Who do you listen to, and what choices do you make?

Man's opinion does not rule- God's does. 

Go by Scriptural examples. Study out the character traits of the women of the Bible, and how they spent their lives. A common thread throughout them all is that God used them and wove their stories into the fabric of destiny bringing forth His plan of Salvation. As we read their stories- no matter how long or short their accounts were, we view their lives as making a difference. 

Yet I'm sure, in the middle of it, they couldn't tell what was so special about them. Couldn't feel the Divine plan or power. 

Nevertheless, God used them in extraordinary ways- and whether they knew His scheme for mankind or not, I can tell you the common thread that holds this cloth together:

They lived with purpose. 

These single years are not to waste your time by. They are not to be complained over, or spent idly. They are not to be spent working a 9-5 job with no reason other than the opportunity arose so you took it. They are not to be spent investing so much in yourself and a world that revolves around you that you are unable to invest in others. They are not to be spent wishing for a new season, or the next big thing, or planning your imaginary wedding. They are not to be spent pitying yourself because your life isn't like so-and-so, or fostering the pity of others. 

Life is so much more than that. 

These years are a gift given for a purpose by the Hand of God. Everything you touch, everything you plan, should be seen through Kingdom lenses. Once you view everything with purpose, with passion, with eyes for the Kingdom, there is little free time left because there's so many possibilities and not enough time. 

You have been given an incredible gift and opportunity. 

God has you here as a single woman because you are more effective for the Kingdom as such. He has you here, with the time you have, to reach out to others. He wants you to minister to the lost and the lonely, to pour into your friends and family. He wants you to serve and to sing, to rejoice in His love and to love others because of your love for Him. He wants you to give and to not take for granted the life He's given or to scorn the plan He has. 

Don't let this season slip on by. 

I understand, everyone's situation is different. But if you have a choice, choose the one that makes a difference for the Kingdom. Don't spend these years building your own kingdom, feeding your selfish desires. Don't spend these years with mindless schedules, running the American rat-race because you couldn't think of anything better to do. Don't rush through to get to the next season, numb to the beauty that is around you today. 

Make a difference- a true difference- with purpose and intention. 

I hope you take your younger friends out for coffee and listen to their dreams and heart. I hope you spend time laughing around the dinner table with your family and being connected to their lives. I hope you sit down and write letters to those who are lonely, and that you take a meal to your neighbor. I hope you nanny for a family in your congregation and that you pursue entrepreneurial endeavors that are in tune with your passions. I hope you lose yourself in prayer and studying Scripture for hours. I hope you meet the needs of others and work with eager hands. I hope you have eyes for the Kingdom and see opportunities everywhere. 

I hope you live fully alive- thriving and overflowing with the joy of the Lord. 

Make your choices with purpose, with passion. 

If this was your last year to be single- how would you spend it? 

Have no regrets- and may He say of you, "Well done, good and faithful servant."

The Prayer Journey // Fasting in Hunger for More

// Read Part One HERE //

In the journey of prayer, what takes you from simply saying words, to engaging with your whole heart? What kindles the fire in your soul, a yearning for the Kingdom that won't be satisfied until you see the restoration? 

What changes a struggling five minute prayer into hours spent before the throne, not wanting your time interceding to come to an end? 

Last week, I shared how important dedication is. In anything, if you want to master something you have to be dedicated in learning and investing time to that skill. It's no different with prayer. We can all say how we want to become closer to God, but unless we do something it's not going to change overnight. 

You may want a thriving prayer life- but what are you going to do about it? 

Many people find themselves at this crossroad, some without even knowing it. I didn't know I was there myself, until a couple years ago a friend of ours challenged my younger brother to spending 90 days seeking God like he never had before. He suggested fasting from all media, getting rid of smart phones, purging books and music. For a family who has pretty high standards when it comes to media, it didn't seem like too hard of a challenge- until he also asked that my brother would fast once a week and spend at least 30 minutes praying every morning. 

30 minutes. 

I joined in simply because I wanted to support my brother on his journey deeper to the Father's heart. I had no personal motives other than to help him stay accountable- and I had no clue the impact it would have in my own life. 

Fasting was an incredibly difficult thing to do for me. If I don't eat, my blood sugar drops, I get lightheaded, and my reaction time slows considerably. And now here I was, about to fast every week for the next 90 days. The first few weeks were torture- I'd barely make it to 4pm before I would end up eating. I wanted to give up, but it's amazing having accountability. If my brother could do this, I could too. As each week went by, I learned when my body would need to have a sip of juice in order to keep going and at what times I needed to be in prayer in order to keep focused. 

It was a journey, crying out for more of God and less of me. 

But that was only the fasting part- prayer was an even bigger mountain to climb. 

During our weekly fast day, we were supposed to take 30-60 minutes to pray in the afternoon. I will never forget my first few weeks of fasting. I'd go into my room in the afternoon to pray, sit on my floor and not know where to start. I'd read Scripture, listen to worship music, and pray...and then look in horror to see that it had only been 15 minutes. I was frustrated at how time dragged by and how I just couldn't seem to keep my attention. 

Yet I was determined- I would learn to enter in. 

I tried many things and slowly found what worked best for me. I'd listen to worship music and let that begin to direct my prayers. I'd write my prayers out in my journal so that I'd stay focused on every word. I'd read Scripture and pray the verses back to Him, changing it to make it personal. Soon, 15 minutes stretched to 30 and then into 50. Eventually it wasn't a chore or something I didn't know what to do with. While before it seemed void of emotion, now I was overwhelmed with who God was and who I was not. I would cry before the Lord over the things I was facing that week that burdened me, I would cry in repentance and in longing of heart. I would laugh with joy as a lyric or a verse would come, almost in response to what I was praying about. And, at times I would just be still before Him- soaking in His presence without a word. 

I began to lose track of time. 

Instead of feeling like I had too much time to fill, I began to feel like I didn't have enough. Soon I'd hear the family call for dinner and feel like I'd barely had time to pray. It was more than a beautiful change, it was the blossoming of a rich and vibrant relationship with the Creator of the Universe in a way I had never experienced before. 

If you do something with all your strength, your heart and emotions will follow. 

Somehow the 90 days went from dragging by to being over in a second. My brother and I had found a treasure we didn't know was missing from our lives, and we decided to take it beyond the 90 days- and I haven't stopped since. Each week, my prayer and fasting day is the one I look forward to the most. My soul craves it just as much as it craves the sabbath. It's my day to quiet my soul before the Lord, to intercede for people I know, to seek guidance for my week. It's one thing to pray every day, but it's another to fast in total dedication to seeking the Father's will. 

Whenever people tell me how they want to develop a deeper prayer life, I always suggest this same challenge. Yes, it starts out hard. Yes, it takes work and dedication. 

But be prepared to go deeper into the heart of God like you never have before. 

Back to Blogging // The Groove of Thriving

It's been a while.

When you're moving, planning a bridal shower, helping with a wedding, hosting a new houseguest with an endless list of food allergies, having a garage sale, working every odd day and hour possible, and packing up what my life has always been...all within 3 months?

Blogging gets pushed to the back burner.

Truly, there have been so many thoughts and ideas running through my mind. So many words fighting to be freed, and yet whenever I sit down before that stark white screen of a new post, my fingers freeze and somehow my heart can't make the connection to my brain. It's the feeling of being trapped within my own soul, unable to soar because you're chained by...yourself, unknowing how to set your own words free. 

But no more. 

There's only so many well-meaning hints from your grandmother you can take before you start stumbling through typing again. When your Bestie starts outdoing you in posting, you know it's high time you start kicking into gear and just. start. writing. Scattered, unedited, absolutely unpolished, but get the words flowing. 

Eventually, my fingers will remember. Eventually, the words will become fluid again. 

I decided I'd take my friend Amelia's advice- sometimes you just need to get a change of scenery, a place that fosters creativity and serenity and just start. 

I find myself in a coffee shop after work, and I take a deep breath in. The nutty aroma of fresh-ground beans calm me, the deep rich leather chairs and dark rough wood floors speak of stories and stains, people who have come and gone. I find myself the only chair available- the one where I can't sit back and still have my feet touch the floor- squirming slightly self-conscious because I feel the eyes of others on me. But I begin to type...and the voices fade, the clanging of metal measuring cups dim, the footsteps and music disappear. 

I will find my groove again. 

And yet, it's in the pause that I find the inspiration. As Amelia shared from her heart, I feel it resonate with mine- sometimes you just have to stop, take a pause, soak it all in. 

The creative mind can't always be overstimulated. As an artist, I crave the colors, the ideas, the stories and the character. I can't help but search for the beauty in the broken like a wild treasure hunt, splashing paint and words and folds of fabric. 

Sometimes, it's the over-stimulation that stops an artist from continuing on. An artist needs white-space, too. A place of calm, no chaos, a place of peace where one can digest all the explosions of brilliant ideas. 

This unannounced blogging break I took, it's been my white-space. 

It's from this break that I'm learning to totter across a delicate balance of stop-and-go. Between soaking up these last few weeks before my brother's married, and yet exploring this new life and carving out community in a city so different from my hometown. Between taking the time each night to journal again (so many thanks, Tia, for the reminder and push I needed) and dabble with my watercolors, and yet still be intentional with my time to be there for friends and family in special ways. 

It's in the balance that I'm feeling the thrive again. Feeling alive again. 

I'm not just back to blogging, I'm back to living life in extravagant and wildly free worship in every little detail. I'm back to adventuring out of my comfort zone and grabbing the moments of creative grace that I can spill into the lives of those around me. 

Here's to a fresh start of blogging...and a fresh start of life. 

Fear and Fatih

2014 was an amazing year.

It was my year of redemption, to stand on the mountaintops and to see that the past two years of pain were not for nothing. That ever step I took- even in the dark- was on one sure path to the destination He had intended for me.

It was my year of E'chad, my year to be one with God- to be so focused on doing all for His glory and for Him alone that I wasn't concerned on pleasing the crowds and dancing for the approval of others. I won't pretend it was easy- but it was so, so worth it.

It was restoration. To see Him open His hand with good things as I sought who He is, as I pursued a deeper relationship far more intimate than it had ever been before. It was beautiful, and I didn't want it to end.

2015 came, and I determined I would continue on my one-word journey with Emuna- faith- knowing that everything that comes into my life is for a purpose and a reason. It's a year of hope, believing that He has good things in store and that He works all things for my good. Trusting that everything He allows is to shape my character and to grow me into the woman He wants me to be.

I was ready for another year of great things- but in order to get great things, it takes great work, too. Only real risk tests the reality of a belief.

Faith...it seems so simple. Believing like a child. No fear, no anxiety...serenity. Not knowing all the details, and that being okay.

I didn't realize that to say yes to the Year of Emuna was also to say yes to the Year of No Fear.

And that's terrifying.

It's terrifying to jump out of the boat. Terrifying to do the hard things. To do the uncomfortable, the uncommon, the overlooked. Terrifying to take the initiative, to put your heart out there and stake it all on what God has called you to do.

It's terrifying to take that leap of faith. 

Faith isn't defined by comfort or complacency. It's defined by forgoing all logic and statistics, by taking both feet off of solid ground and knowing God is going to meet you there.

Fear and faith cannot coexist. 

I can't trust God and not act upon it. If I say I want increased faith, I have to know that the ground I stand on is going to shift from underneath my feet. I have to know that when the walls crack and the rain pours and the storm swells, that it is well because He's got it all in His Hands. Faith means I can't sit idle. I have to be out there, getting my hands dirty and my brow sweaty, doing hard things in completely faith that He is going to take my tiny measure and make it into something more.

I can't fear failure. I can only trust His faithfulness.

From E'chad to Emuna, I stand at the edge of the cliff and my knees shake. My heart races.

But this is living fully alive. 

Throw fear to the wind- because faith demands the leap.

You may feel like you're falling, but this is how He will teach you to fly. 

Dear Me // Letter to Myself

Dear Me,

One day you'll read this and laugh, because you'll see all those dramas and embarrassments that made you want to sink into the floor as what they really are- such small, little things in comparison to what truly matters. Whether you smile with spinach in your teeth or walk with a twisted skirt, it really is not going to make-or-break your dreams. You may feel like they do- may feel like you've ruined your only shot at this- but I promise you, nothing will make-or-break the dreams God has placed within your soul. 

Don't sweat the small stuff. Even in a world that screams perfection, you were never made to meet that standard. Seeking after it will only leave you dry, empty, and drained of all the talents God wants to reveal through you. Give yourself grace and room to breathe. Give yourself time to take in the beauty, and time to heal from the wounds inflicted by others... and by yourself. Give yourself the freedom to be you- whimsical, lioness, freckle-faced and red-headed you- regardless of what other people say.

You'll look back on the biggest heartbreaks and see them as the greatest launching pads towards God's purpose for your life. Like the summer you had heat stroke and your military aspirations drained away with the IV in your arm, the year you traveled South and experienced culture shock but somehow your heart got tied there too, the winter where you went from joy to heartbreak in 6.3 weeks and your soul grew cold like the thick ice on the windowpane, the year you went to Israel and your world turned upside down and was shaken out.

Like the embarrassment, this pain will fade, too- so don't let it stop you from living life with gusto and whimsy, with joy and dancing and taking big risks. The only regret you will have in later years is from not spreading your wings to fly because you clipped them with fear. Don't spend life avoiding the "thud" of falling, because I promise you every "thud" is worth the 30 seconds of glorious flight living fully alive in the calling God has placed on your life. 

Through it all, you were made to worship with abandon, with every fiber of your being. Every meal you bake, every piece of art you make, is all a glorious song of worship to the King. Don't let others dictate what genre that song is supposed to be, what lyrics are to be spoken, or how fluent your Hebrew should be. God just wants you to show up- in the midst of all your passionate soul, in the midst of your imperfections, in the way that only you can worship Him.   

So dear Me, live with reckless abandon, with joy unspeakable, treasuring the raw blessings, wrestling in prayer, and counting the cost. Do life big, and in years to come you will be able to see this glorious unfolding. 

I guarantee, it'll leave you speechless.

Sincerely,
Me

When Faith Feels Like Dying

You'd think I'd be used to it, having family that's done this before. No trepidation, no hesitation, just a let's-go-get-'er-done mentality. 

And I do. I really do. 

But makes it a world of difference when you're purchasing your own ticket for half way around the world. Makes it a whole lot different when it's yours and not someone else's. 

It's your world that will forever be changed. Not your dad's or your brother's or the widow next store. Your world. 

And what are you supposed to do with that? With all the unknowns and the less-than-ideal environment and late nights and early mornings and food you normally avoid here in the States- and that's not even the spiritual warfare and mental exhaustion and mountaintop highs and valley lows. 

By faith Abraham left. 

Up and left even though he didn't know where he was going. Didn't know what God was going to do. 

Sometimes faith feels like dying. 

Dying of yourself. Your dreams. Your control. 

I've never really admitted to anyone, but I'm scared of heights. I blame it on one too many times of siblings pushing me towards the edge of a cliff, then "heroically" saving me as a scream and flail. Take me to a mountaintop, and I will stay at least three feet away from the edge. Knees turn to jello and my stomach bottoms out. 

So when it's the two of us girls standing at the bottom of the climbing wall, looking up at the zip-line, she panics and says she's not going to because she's afraid of heights. 

Ditto, girl.  

But I lift my chin and say that I'm doing it- and she can, too. We climb to the top of the rickety, curving staircase, boards jutting out and slanting precariously. The attendant clips my line, secures my harness...

And I can't take my eyes off of that one inch wheel, just sitting loosely on the rope, holding me from sudden death. 

"Just jump," the attendant says, nudging me. I gulp. Jump? Really? Won't the wheel come off the track? I sit at the edge of the tower, feet dangling in the air. I clear my throat nervously. Shift back and forth on the platform, slowly inching myself off but hands still gripping wood. 

God, please don't let me fall. Please don't let me fall. Don't let me fall....

I close my eyes, suck in air, and grip the rope like it's my lifeline.

It was the most terrifying 45 seconds of my life. 

Faith is just that. Feels like dying. Feels like letting go and you're just going to fall and shatter every bone in your body. 

But faith feels like living, too. 

Wide awake, adrenaline surging, heart pumping, lungs screaming. Every part of you tingling, senses alert, soul flying. 

It's when you die to your control when you truly can live....whether it's here or halfway around the world. 

Personal // Like Challah Broken

Shabbat is like a whisper of calm, a gentle breeze of peace that floats in through the windows as the sky turns to fire. The music low, the candles lit, the glasses filled, the bread broken. And now, just me alone in the rocker with Mr. Kitten snuggled over my arm as I type. The house quiet. The boys asleep. Mom at the table with the lights dim, book open. 

After one crazy week, peace feels so good. 

My life is not your typical American stereotype. It's a lot of reaching out, a lot of giving, and least I sound like a selfless religious angel, it's often a lot of giving I don't like to do.

Giving my time during a busy week. Giving my family when I feel like I haven't had much time with them myself. Giving our food and money when we're not sure when the next paycheck is coming. Giving up my schedule. Giving when it doesn't feel like it's appreciated. 

This week was a long one (you know, typical stuff- neighbor got arrested, another friend had a texting fight that got sent to our phone, huge misunderstanding over e-mail, having one hour notice before picking up a young teenage girl from the inner city, having said girl's stay turn into a week and a half instead of the originally planned four days, and completely feeling overwhelmed at the ticking clock as we rush to get packed for Israel. yep, can't see how it could get more typical than that), and peace is what my heart has been longing for. 

I've been broken- broken like challah, then passed around. Passed around until I feel like there is no crumb left for myself. 

That's a place I never want to be. 

If I'm at that place, I turn bitter- self-focused instead of other-focused. Too consumed about my own comfort that I withhold that last morsel of nutrition for myself instead of giving it to another soul in desperate need. When I don't like to give- of my time, family, resources, of myself- it's because my eyes have strayed from the goal. 

I'm not asked to give only to those who appreciate. I'm asked to give it all, to all, as He has given to me. 

I have truly experienced that it is more blessed to give than to receive. The neighbor arrested? His mother was the first ones to call us for help. It's wonderful to feel needed. The e-mail mix-up? It was a self-check for us to respond with humility. We all need to stop and look in the mirror of Scripture. To examine. Scrutinize. Become holy as He is holy. The inner city girl? She taught me so much- from grace and unshakeable faith to what areas of the city to avoid (yikes), what weave is (total enlightenment), and how squatters turn on the water and electric (not that I needed that. just sayin'). Everyone is a teacher if our hearts are willing to become a student. 

And packing? It'll get done, even though we'll blink and time is up. What's needed will end up in the suitcases, even if one of us forgets something else. It'll get done, because this is what Yehovah God has called our family to- and He's asking we step out of the boat and onto the waves. Giving to His people. Giving to His Land. 

When you live with hands cracked open to grace, you will be broken and poured out and- even in the chaos and drama- you will be blessed sevenfold. 

Shabbat shalom...sabbath peace...it fills the rooms on our last weekend together, and I cannot begin to imagine the lessons and the blessings this new venture will bring. 

And being broken like bread, passed around? Isn't this what Yeshua has done for us? Do it- whatever sacrifice or giving you're asked to do- in remembrance of Him.

Personal // It Is Good

To be honest, I dreaded this birthday. Between turning another decade and memories from last year's birthday that still leave me in tears, how could I not? 

So when I'm standing at the sink doing a mountain of dishes alone, still in sweats and the afternoon is flying by, with coughing children on the couch and germs flying in the air- things weren't looking up for this year and I'll admit, depression was setting in. 

It's been one long year. 

Cancer. Betrayal. Death. A horrible family emergency that's still underway. World-traveling. Often being responsible for 6 children when I least expect it. Joy. Tears. 

I stand at the sink and tell mom I don't feel like celebrating. My heart feels as grey as the winter sky above, flakes falling swift and sure, smothering the world below. 

But if you have to do it, you might as well make the most of it. Do something and your heart will eventually follow. I pick out mismatched plates in bold colors (chevron and zebra stripes, anyone?), hang a pin-the-tail-on-Zevi-the-Zebra on the door, try to get in the spirit of joy. Phone rings, I answer, and the bestie's voice bubbles on the other end. She's excited about my birthday, can't wait to show me something....and slowly, joy rubs off on me. 

I hang some streamers to celebrate. Another friend sends me a text out of the blue, makes the sun start to peak around the clouds. 

Mom comes home and surprises me with a bouquet of daisies, dressed in bright bold blues and yellows and pinks and greens. I start arranging them in my favorite little vases I picked up at rummage sales, and the smile comes. 

Yes, this birthday is good. 

Good to leave the past behind. Good to walk through this season and heal. Good to walk life as an adult and take responsibility for my choices. 

I get tangled by a rowdy bunch of kidlets at the door, all clamoring for hugs and kisses. I take the oldest niece to pick up my gluten-free/dairy-free pizza, and we chatter in the car. I share a Virgil's with my grandpa and spin the kids dizzy for pin-the-tail-on-Zevi. 

Yes- it is good. 

And when my Energizer Bunny Boy comes down with a fever and his little body shakes cold, I head out to the store on a medicine run and spend the rest of the evening rubbing Vicks on little feet, coaxing down medicine and wiping tears. Yesterday it was cleaning up blood and rocking the youngest, keeping her calm after a major bloody nose. Two days before that it was doing math and spelling at the kitchen table with six voices asking questions and me trying to wrack my brain to remember the answers (why didn't anyone tell me that I really would need to remember the things I learned in school?). 

Yes- life is good. 

So hello new year- let me take you on with shoulders squared, boots on, and pack empty. Here's to dancing for the audience of One and living fully where He has me- bloody noses, drama, and all. 

Grace-filled Simplicity

Growing up, summer was always my least favorite season. I hated the heat, the humidity, the sticky feeling when you go from AC to 90's. But this year, after a winter of darkness and cold, of chemo and pain, the sun's rays have seemed like soothing nectar to my soul. I've never experienced it before.

I can't stop drinking it up. 

Perhaps it's because after a taste of a muggy Southern summer I truly appreciate my balmy Northern one, or perhaps it's because my mighty Elohim is healing my soul- showing me how to sing again, to LIVE again. 

You only get one life to live- we have to embrace it. 

We have to get past the pain of chemo and the sting of relationships and the trama of death of loved ones. We have to learn to open our fists again and fully accept this crazy grace- HIS crazy grace. Choose to see these gifts He's given, to fully be alive and embrace every joy. 

I've found it in simplicity. Taking things slow. Recording these gifts, a living record of His faithfulness. 

I'm going to enjoy this summer to it's fading golden rays. Sometimes it's big things, like glorious weddings and traveling this beautiful country. Joy isn't materialistic things- it's dancing praise with all your might as your bare feet pound the plywood floor with a hundred other hearts, it's spending Shabbat by the lakeshore, it's mending relationships and building bridges. It's little things like sharing chips and pop in the shady grass with a fraction of the passel of nieces and nephews, it's coffee dates with mom, it's swinging on the hammock with my brother as the sun fades and we unburden our hearts to each other. These happy gifts are laughter, fresh produce, new friends and hearing from old ones. It's wrestling prayer, the breezes of fresh air, curly hair and long dresses that make me feel like a princess.

It's choosing to see everything with new eyes. Put the computer away, shut off my phone. Even if it's just for an hour or two- or maybe a whole week media free.

It's recording these moments of grace, these beautiful gifts He bestows on His unworthy bride...

Because love? It never stops giving. 

--
(care to share your list of grace gifts today? can we see if everyone can name at least 10- from sunlight flickering on the windowpane to cupping a hot mug of pumpkin spice latte? share yours in a comment below!) 

When It's Time To Stop Waiting // Jump Out Of The Boat

Life is full of waiting. Some self-imposed, some God-imposed. Some things make sense, while others are blurry visions of things to come. Go ahead, raise your hand if you are waiting…

…for a husband…
…for a job…
…for an education…
…for a child…
…for God to work in someone’s life…
…for God to work in your life…
…for enough money to do this or that…
…for more time…
…for more talent…
…for forgiveness…

…I’m sure I haven’t covered all the bases, so add your two cents here: I am waiting for ______________. Fill in the blank. You’re not alone. 

We’re all waiting. 

But when is it time to stop waiting? Stop waiting to live our lives until the perfect love, perfect friend, perfect job, perfect situation transforms our lives? Isn’t it time that we stop pacing back and forth and actually do something? To you young women out there, don’t get me wrong- I’m not saying that you need to go out and find yourself a husband here. I’m not saying that we need to speed up God’s timing. I’m not saying that we should not wait. 

We need to wait. But we also need to live. And sometimes? While we’re waiting for that big moment to present itself…it’s really God’s gentle push saying, “Jump out of the boat.” 

For me? It’s the fear that’s keeping me waiting in the unknown. 

God wants to bring us to the place where our eyes are fixed on Him and Him alone. He wants us to be focused solely on being abandoned to Him. He wants us to do hard things. 
Peter had that opportunity. 
Messiah called him out to the impossible of walking on water, and his fire-zealous heart leaped at the chance. He took the step of faith. He left the boat…but his eyes riveted off of the Master to what if. The waves were there, and what if they took him under? In that moment, there was no longer full abandonment. There was no longer full surrender. 
A quarter was given to the enemy.
It was all that was needed. Soon fear grabbed his heart, pulling him into the deep. It was a downward spiral to the depths of darkness. He knew he was going under, and he cried out for the Master to save him. 
And He did. As soon as the words had left Peter’s lips, He was by his side. 

I’ve always had a strong connection to Peter. I, like Peter, am zealot-hearted. I, like Peter, am bold when my soul feels free- but when the enemy looks me in the eye, I do the unthinkable and cave in to safety. My heart, like Peter’s, beats the Gospel, but my most desperate pleas are “Lord, save me!” and “Give me grace!”. 
Oh, Peter, I think we would’ve been friends…because your acquaintances Fear and What If visit my house, too. I’m pacing the boat, uncertain of the waters, wondering if He’s going to let me sink or stand. 

And I blame it on the “waiting game”. 

I say I’m waiting for more time, for more courage, for more talent, for more provisions. I blame my refusal to jump out of the boat on things I think I don’t have- forgetting that He will give us all that we need. Fear keeps me chained in the shallow end because the thought of doing what He’s asking me to sends me into cardiac arrest. Fear keeps me bound on the solid ground of self because I know that if I do what He’s asking me to, it’s going to make me vulnerable and uncomfortable and scared out of my wits. Fear keeps me enslaved to complacency because if I leap out of the boat, I’m going to get wet. I’m going to struggle. I’m going to thrash. I’m going to take great big gulps of water that flood my lungs and make me feel like I’m drowning…because I completely forget that He’s just a call away. He’s not going to let me drown in the deep end. 

He’s calling me- and you- to leap out of the boat and live. He’s calling us to pick up our swords, look that monster named Fear in the eyes and say, “You will not run my life-no way.”  It’s a daily battle. Being a Believer isn’t a walk in the park or a tea party- it’s a wild roller-coaster and a battlefield. We have to fight our flesh and die to self so that He can live in us. 

He’s asking us to live while we’re waiting for the things He’s asked us to wait for, and asking that we walk by faith and not by sight. Today will never come again- how are we going to make it count for the Kingdom? How are we going to give Him every heartbeat, every quickened breath, every action of our hands and feet and ask Him to make them count for His glory? 

I swing my legs over the side of the boat. I want to be on the water with Him. The boat lurches at the shifting weight, wanting to dump me overboard. My fingernails claw at the wooden rail of the familiar and the safe. Yet, I want to go. I want to. Fear is looking over my shoulder- I can feel his heavy shadow loom. 
But my eyes look to Him. His hands are outstretched. I can barely hear Him whisper over the wind and the waves- the things that scream that I’m foolish, the things that boss me to do something else, the things that yell that I’ll never make it out there. I can barely hear Him, but I can lip-read enough to know. “Trust Me. Your life is now.” 
My toes touch the water and I abandon the ship of self security to live fully on the waves where He’s calling me. 

Ponder Me This

There's a lot to ponder about in this life.

Some things, they're worth pondering. Others, well, they just aren't. So I ponder myself this:

What's wrong with this Body? 

Why do we have division? Why do we have strife? Do we all need to walk through a cancer journey in order to realize that we only have one life, only one shot to be His love, only one try to show a dying world who He is? Do we all need to sit in the cancer ward with our lives flashing before our eyes or have toxic orange fluid drip into our chests and burn away all the worthless pursuits and meaningless time killers and petty disagreements? 

Do we care more about being right and being on top that we forget that we are called to be children of Peace- to do anything and everything within our power to make peace? And if we're not children of Peace- who's children are we?

It's like Ann recalls- we're looking more like Christ's Estate rather than Christ's Body. We're divided by fences and lines rather than joined together by the sinews and veins. 

So when are we going to put down our signs, cross over the lines, and love like He did? And I'm not talking about the outside world here- it seems we can love them fairly well. We gladly put on smiles and extend hands of love in attempts to build bridges with the lost. But inside this Body? 

We just keep on building fences. 

Have we so quickly forgotten the second greatest commandment? Do we forget that it's LOVE- love that covers over a multitude of sins? That we must first show love to our brother before we can show our love to Him? And if we paused before we eagerly look for the spec of dirt in our brother's eye- we'd see the beams of filth in our own life? 

Is this what Christ died for- so we could all just trample grace and refuse to give it to our hurting brother and keep on building fences? 

It doesn't have to be this way. It shouldn't be this way. 

So what are you going to do about it?

This is our responsibility. It boils down to us individually. What are we going to do to restore unity, to be a healing balm and gracefully begin restoration within the Body? 

Is it an e-mail? An apology? Time spent on your knees in tears, begging the Father to break your heart like this dysfunctional Body breaks His? Is it inviting that person over to dinner, or meeting them for coffee, or writing them a note of grace? Is it a hug? Saying "You're needed in this Body"? A gift? Going out of your way to make sure that person feels loved and needed- regardless of petty doctrinal disagreements? 

How are you going to break the fences and link arms once again with your fellow sisters and brothers? 

(please, go read this post. ann's words ring so true. i had "Holy Spirit Bumps" chill my arms as I read. take it as a challenge- and be the change. do something to bring this Body back to unity. because in the end? it all starts with you and me.)

You're Gonna Have All of Me

As I’ve mentioned before, my 2nd oldest brother is in the middle of his second battle against a very rare cancer called angiosarcosma. The details, they’re too numerous to list. They boggle my mind. They keep me up at night. They keep my prayer life full to where I don’t believe my cup can hold one more drop. They leave me begging the Holy Spirit to intercede for me with groans I cannot comprehend because I have no words left to say. 

Yet, through it all, God is forever showing us unconditional love. As brother and sister, we haven’t always made “unconditional love” our motto between us. But today, that changes. Not just because cancer changes things, but because God changes things within us. I make this my new creed:

I will strive to show unconditional love even though our emotions are bubbling, our nerves are raw, we’re angry, we’re sad, we’re crying one moment and laughing the next. I won’t hide behind jealousy, broken pasts, and hurt feelings. I won’t hide in the corner because I’m afraid loving you will open my heart to more disappointments. Unconditional love is loving you through it all. 

If you’re angry, that’s okay- I still love you, I’ll still be here. If you’re sad, cry it on my shoulder- I still love you, I’ll still be here. If we’re frustrated and mad at each other, I will take a step back and let God work- but know that I still love you, I’ll still be here. 

No matter what this week, next week, next month, or next year brings, you’re gonna have all of me. ‘Cause you’re far worth every tear cried, every late-night plea, every fear we’ll have to face through this God-controlled chaos. 

I love you Ryan, always- you’re one very, very special big brother. 

YOU’RE GONNA HAVE ALL OF ME // YOU’RE GONNA HAVE ALL OF ME // ‘CAUSE YOU’RE WORTH EVERY FALLING TEAR // YOU’RE WORTH FACING ANY FEAR // YOU’RE GONNA KNOW ALL MY LOVE // EVEN IF IT’S NOT ENOUGH // ENOUGH TO MEND OUR BROKEN HEARTS // BUT GIVING YOU ALL OF ME // IS WHERE I START

The Wild Ride of Faith...

...because God calls us to adventure to keep from becoming stagnant. This blog is my new stomping grounds, a place that I can share my life, poured out for my Master's use.

But why "His Irish Flame"? Amy Carmichael's words says it all:

Give me the Love that leads the way

The Faith that nothing can dismay

The Hope no disappointments tire

The Passion that'll burn like a fire

Let me not sink to be a clod

Make me Thy fuel, O Flame of God

I am an Irish lass, who desires with every fiber of her being to live set-apart and in awe of Yehovah God. Passionately. Relentlessly. Courageously. Epically.

I'm not new to blogging, although I haven't attempted a post in years. Lately, the blogging bug has bitten me again- perhaps because this wild ride of faith just got a wee bit more crazy. My 2nd oldest brother is battling for his life as he fights a very rare cancer, and through all the emotions and turmoil, I've found that I desire a place of escape- where my words can flow from my heart to ease what is all building up inside. For people to see what's inside, when no words can leave my lips because the emotion is too deep. A place that is a living testimony of what the Father is doing in me- and what He can do in all of us.

So join me, as I dive into the deep end, fully trusting that He will hold me up in His Hands. The Father doesn't call us to a stroll in the park, but to the wildest adventure you could ever imagine.