Easy to Hold

There is no rest from this ache.

Not yet.

Too much of our hearts still remain in-tact.

Pleading with your smile

to sweep over us again.

Tides of your LOVE touch, no crash

these solid stones of warm memories. 

They do not budge.

Rhythm of unrest and I detest the false sense

that we somehow agreed to accept your recession.

Confession?

You're the breathing light of a family on fire. 

The wire tied tightly to places within

known

only

by

u.

How did we miss such truth as this.

you ARE the call to love.

Brilliant, stretching out beyond us,

teasing us,

to come and play

in eternity

with you.

~ How I miss you Haley Paige. xoxox

Pancake Mondays

It wasn't the accents, the hitch in their walk or the noisy spurs of the cowboys in the booth beside me. Perhaps it was the familiar twang of achy breaky heart playing over the radio that nudged me from my early morning nostalgia, flinging me back into my body that sat in the small booth of the "downtown" ihop in Wichita Falls Texas. Wichita as in "you aren't in Kansas anymore Dorothy", falls as in... there isn't a scene of cascading water in sight, Texas as in... Texas. By that I mean you could throw a rock across some creek a couple miles North and hit the even dustier state of Oklahoma.
 
Prior to last nights apocalyptic thunderstorm, 100 degree days had broke every standing heat record known to man and the terrain had literally forgotten how to absorb. Instead of the hint of fresh soaked earth, the air laid heavy with moisture between the endless sky and stubborn red clay dirt. All of this made up the world outside my window. My life that I had wound up in, almost by accident it seemed, but for right now I held on to whatever sanity was left in the off white coffee cup in front of me. Desperate to delay my return to planet Texas, I played the acronym game with the letters in front of me. "I-H-O-P"... As in "I hop-e today doesn't kill me", or... It was a short game.

I evaded to sifting through the lives of the strangers around me. The lone taxi driver of the "city" complained of his cold eggs, two medical students taxed over study questions, and my waitress seemed to wish she were anywhere but here. The differences in our affliction were, as she dreamed of places beyond her experience, I longed for places I had vivid memories of. It is a disturbing question to ponder, whether the pain would be less if born blind or to lose your sight after knowing the beauty of color. I would guess that being left with momentary flashes of vibrance as my only company in darkness would leave me unspeakably bitter. I thought of it a moment and returned to my gaze outside the window. Cheesy animations of cheap cartoon ghosts and bats floated around my vision of the barely lit sky. Time was an unclear concept these days, but these bright invasive faces reminded me of my birthday just around the corner. I thought of the last, it's contrast to the one before that and couldn't help but sense the crack between them which my 26th would lie in.

I remembered the horrific weeks and days leading up to my 24th, wishing I were literally never born, and the cruelty of being forced to celebrate another year of life.  Within a year I was celebrating my 25th with a new-found appreciation for life. I could not yet determine what this one would encompass, I shrugged it off thinking it was all the same to me now. I no longer existed in this space where time mattered. I only made effort to follow along hoping to not disrupt the tempo of the lives around me. The big and little hands of my life followed something much different. I knew the hope I once had of that ever changing was up to something far greater than chance.

Storm.

Abba,

I'm tired of sour words. Tired of arguing against the distractions I've allowed my heart to fall into, tired of the vanity and pointlessness of being heartbroken. Tired of looking for truth, even hoping for it, from places you warned that only destruction would come from. This is exhausting. It is insatiable, worst of all... It isn't YOU. I miss who I was with YOU. I miss waking up thinking of nothing other than how it FEELS to know my father in heaven loves me. You are still sovereign, you are STILL so UNBELIEVABLY INCREDIBLE. I know these things with my mind but my heart is so stuck. I am so hopeless without you. I feel like Elijah must have when he begged you to end his life, that he was no better than his ancestors. You are so awesome and these struggles are so pointless when I try to hold them up to you. I remember thinking how petty it would be to whine over a broken heart when there is such destruction in the world to break for. This doesn't compare. Please put my focus back to you. Please save me from myself. Please show me how to walk out of darkness and never look back...

I would walk on water.

You will catch me when I fall.

I would get lost into your eyes,

Everything would be alright.

Whoomp, there it is.

2 Cor 12:9

why truth?

because it's the lies that our hearts won't let go of.

Episode 39 (or somethin)

"So like I was saying... the captain of the Enterprise decided in classic Star Trek fashion, that it was a good idea to move towards the black hole, which they knew nothing about. It happens every other episode, every time they approach the "unfamiliar" object things get all crappy...."

I think it was the combination of words not often used in everyday conversation that brought my attention back to his story.

"I'm sorry, are you talking about Star Trek... were we even talking about anything remo--"

"No, but I've learned that if you transition with 'speaking of which' or 'on that note', you can plug a Star Trek story into just about any topic."

It had been a long day and the emotional roller-coaster I was on had my world spinning. It felt something like a bad dream gone worse, the lap bar holding me securely refused to release and I was left to make sense of the blurs around me with this crazy motion of my heart. Spiritually speaking, I was slowly being set free, yet at the time all I could feel was the re-breaking of bones that had mistakenly set. Not breaking. Splintering.

..."and it was ridiculous because Data was slowly... and ...."

Embarrassed by my more than usual inattentiveness I was thankful not to be the only one in Sean's audience. I hoped he didn't notice as I tried to catch up nonchalantly. My eyes refocused to the booth we had been lounging in, I sipped some sweet tea and tuned in just in time to hear him wrap things up.

..."so in the end, after all the drama of trying to escape the physical pull of the vortex, they decided to just go through the black hole continuum."

"Right," Courtney had gotten comfortable now, relaxing out of necessity. "What happened?" I assumed she was just being polite. Three nerds had to be above the capacity for one booth, especially one in a college town sports bar.

"The weirdest thing, nothing. After they passed through, everything on the other side was exactly the same. After all that fighting it, the chaos, and confusion with the crew, the projected damage to the ship... they came out unaffected."

I wondered what it was all leading up to. I'm sure we all looked, for a moment, like members of the Enterprise... hoping the far off look in the captains eyes didn't mean what it had in the past.

Full speed ahead. Aye-Aye, captain.

"This totally wasn't where I was going with the story but it just made me realize, that sometimes you can't help but surrender to the circumstance. And when you do, when you let go and hope for miracles, that's when the tragedy ends. It was their fighting with uncertainty that did the damage."

At that moment I knew Sean had received a promise. By obeying the prompting of His heart, stepping out on faith, and sharing his struggles to a group of college aged strangers... he had been set free. He may not have sensed it, his heart had been on a crazy ride, but the guy sitting in front of me was no longer bound to the uncertainty of his struggles. I've loved him as my brother, but now there was an excitement for him, for his life. Maybe it was life I was seeing. A moment of lifted torment, it was brilliant.

I was again taken back by the mysterious way God moves. How he speaks through us to one another, sometimes so that the speaker them-self can hear the needed truth more clearly. With our Abba's infinite power and unrelenting love for us, how do we ever think He wouldn't be blowing us away in things like Star Trek tangents?

Why are my expectations so small? He whispers and by His miraculous grace and love for me...

I hear Him.

It was later that night when I felt myself exhale since... well, since. While twisting my rebellious love-locks, unable to sleep I felt the all too familiar sensation of His peace wash over me. I ache for these moments, have never dictated them, they are a gift every time. I had been thinking of Sean's story, replaying the night. His testimony, our conversations, the many things I've felt God doing all around me. All beneath the gripping, pressing, and dissolving of my heart.

Go ahead. Grind away.

Earlier that day, I was dwelling in my inability to survive the ride; my own two feet would not carry me from this wreckage, not this time. All I felt there was left to do was grip the cold bar, do my best to keep breathing, and ride it out. The blisters on my hands were no match for the jerks of the track and my once kung-fu-death-grip on the now metallic crimson bar had gone slick, to the beat of my slowing pulse. I could have sworn I had calluses for such an occasion but they were long gone. I had been soaking in the love and freedom of complete surrender before the ride began, and the scars of my past had been slipping off me day by day.

I had given up ever fighting a battle such as this and prayed the day would never come.

But now, after fleeing the space time continuum abyss where not even light escapes the pull of the vortex,
I liberated my hands.
Held them trembling to my heart.
Fell to my knees and between sobs fell words only a father could understand,


"All I want is you.

All I want is you.

All I want is you."

Only a Dream

She has no desire to be called beautiful

or hold some affinity in your eyes

Beauty begs to be captured then caged.

Ravaged then tamed.

Like a verse to refresh

our collapsing minds

with the syntax, rhythm, and rhyme

of a sultry silhouette.

an eager moment of

skin

deep

ecstasy

who's climax a prodigious kiss by fire;

to consume and expire.

Taking all but the fading memory.

Call her, "the intrigue who knows well

the tempo of postprandial dissipation".

Beauty carries neither power nor affluence.

It is the cold hand that laces down her spine.

Invasive.

Cryptic.

She can hope for warmth.

Plead for truth,

but has no desire to be found

then lost

beautifully in your eyes

Those eyes...

but to be loved,

to be loved,

to be.

and yet, it was only a dream

a snapshot of life escaping the grave,

the final breath of fate miscarried.

and you can't help but say

she's beautiful.

Beautiful Things

The true beauty I’ve come to know in brokenness comes from beyond me.

When the experience of pain shifts from the slight enjoyment of feeling “almost dead” and therefore more “alive”, to a plea for non-existence. 

Honesty.

When the deepest words fall light and easy, their weight evaporating before reaching my listener’s ears.

Simplicity.

By the same tired breath, walls come crashing around heavy arms and I realize that I’ve been the one holding them up around me. 

Effortless.

I thought I was safe inside my own prison of hopelessness and despair. 

Bondage.

The uncertainty of walking in freedom is no longer enough to keep me bound. 

Escape.

The lie that there would be hope for my heart within these walls has been utterly and painfully disproven.

Surviving on faith.

A promise made between a little girl and her savior has been kept. 

Believe.

I’ve been called “gorgeous”, but would much prefer dust… 

Identity.

And tonight I can’t help but feel that beautiful things are right around the corner. 

Miracle.

Psalm 103:14

now... we can get started.

Im sitting in an empty room. My skin is warm, touched by comfort... like drifting still in a steady tide. I'm holding my breath not out of longing, or even hope... but because I'm afraid to make waves as I float through this empty canvas. It's taken the better part of 25 years to let go of my life. To surrender to the current with my Savior on speed dial. I've even learned to find rest in this place as others look on in terror. Why? I don't know. I suppose I disrupt some equilibrium they've been incubating in... my hand seizes as I paint that last line. My mistake... wipe it clean? 

I've been living this past year in this tempo where I forget that I wasn't made, created, designed... to know everything. My nature is to create rules, lines, boundaries, systems to fall on with every possible circumstance. My nature tells me that this is comfort. The lover of my soul has proven different. He reminds me to keep my eyes on Him. Coaxes down my weapons of battles passed and floods me with His love. Engulfing me. This is where He heals me, more than that... this is the one place where I can beexactly who I was made to be. Everything else ravages my heart, the scars ofmy forgetfulness are many.

There is a story buried so deep inside me. A voice. It isn't filtered well through reason, logic, or any man's theology. Doing so only creates more layers to sift through. Lies and attempts to explain, define, paint a picture or just draw a line to justify my very beginning. It is so far from me. Every time I have tried to handle my elephant(s) in the room, I'm left on an empty stage. Broken and hopeless. 

He reminds me... He stills me... He gently pleads... "Let me be the one you go back with? Let me navigate you through this? Let me be the one to show you how beautiful you are, please. I've been waiting..." He acts like He doesn't know, this is what I've always wanted and never knew how to ask. Now, I'm desperate to be free from the image people paint and call my life, from every rebuttal I throw up against them in adesperate plea, "Can I just be?" My voice is shrill. Desperate. 

I'm trying to survive this empty place alone... No one hears me. Everyone tells me what I'm saying through their filtered, comfortable, incubated heart. No one tries to understand. Truth is, no one can. 

Call it into question. Your nature tells you to do so. Begin to search for some truth or solution, something black and white. Go ahead. It's what you need to feel at ease. But out of love I ask, wouldn't you rather be free? 

My heart refuses to get back in your cage. Not out of stubborness or spite, but because I have something greater than your trained ability to reason me there. I have Him. I'm doing a giant cannon ball into His relentless river and looking forward to it sweeping me far away. I'll pray you follow soon after, love you regardless, but I have nothing left to keep me here... not even the hope that by my power I could take you with me. For this and every bit of the brokenness I am thankful.

Warrior Child

 Sometimes I wear bandanas. It's a little harder to get away with in Wichita Falls TX... but I endure the stares every once in a while. There are some activities I have a difficult time doing without wearing a bandana, or at least a headband. Studying, painting, and definitely playing. I wish I could wear them every day. Some people find this strange but quickly chalk it up with everything else they expect from Californians. Just another 'granola' characteristic of mine, like being vegan and not liking to wear shoes. Regardless, I sometimes feel like I need to explain myself, just to reassure them that it's not because I'm a pot smokin youth rebellion leader. Maybe I watched karate kid too many times growing up, or I just like to dress up my pony tail that I sport 24/7.

If I were to guess, Id say it's because I've always had this sense in me that life was a battle, and I was a warrior. Tackling a project, or even just my day without it feels like being an on-duty soldier without their uniform, or stepping on the court to play vb without my knee pads. Just doesn't feel right. It reminds me how things feel when I step into a certain battle, school, dealing with family, or work without inviting my heavenly father to be a part of it. 

Took this pic in San Fran. I think he felt about his cape how I do about my bandana. 

Some habits never die.

I wonder how many people feel this way... that's why I LOVE this song by Tal & Acacia, a letter written from God to one of his little warriors. 

Here's to you, Warrior Child. 

<3 Laurén

Warrior Child ~Tal & Acacia

The day is ended and you're not even dressed

Its taken all you have to just get out of bed

the war has kept you on your knees and you confess

I am tired

there's nothing left

when all you had was given in the raging fight

you fear your life has been wasted here in this cold night

empty and alone you cry those precious tears

warrior child

I'm still here

forsaken

not my warrior child

abandoned

never will I forget you

my child I love you so

and someday you'll finally know

but until then

please be strong

you've carried soldiers on your back to get them here

the wounded broken ones you fought for all those years

you fed them all you have and now you're weak and faint

loved you are

in heavens gaze

forsaken

not my warrior child

abandoned

no never will I forget you

my child I love you so

and someday you'll finally know

but until then

would you please be strong

forsaken

no not my warrior child

abandoned

no never will I forget you

my child I love you so

someday you'll finally know

but until then

please be strong

To go... or not to go. Is that the question?

Church. (I'll get back to this, promise, promise.)

Over the past couple years, researchers have become more than curious of my beliefs and values. Not mine alone, but those of my generation. Come to find out, there hasn't been an inquiry of this magnitude among human science experts since the 60's (Baby Boomer generation aka my hippie parents). One of the main trends within their findings reveals that like our parents we are a 'counterculture' n. A culture, especially of young people, with values or lifestyles in opposition to those of the established culture.

In the 60's this coupled with a political climate filled with controversy, and of course drugs. Lots... and LOTS... of drugs. In the broad scheme of things, I see my parents' generation as being one whos hearts conflicted with world turmoil in a way they could not deny.

I know... I KNOW. The 60's was just an era of political up-rise that a rebellious generation took complete advantage of by getting lit. There was absolutely nothing meaningful to it. Drrr... Right?

As I change gears, I want you to think about something. Do you always KNOW why you do something? For example, why do I make 'that face' when I put on eyeliner? It DOESN'T aid me in the process. Why do I sometimes blow on my spooned ice cream like it's hot soup? Why do dogs have to walk around in that little circle before they can lay down? How is it that I can drive a whole two hours, arrive in my driveway to realize I was suppose to go to work? I can't even remember a moment of the drive...

My auto pilot terrifies me sometimes.

Creatures of habit we are. Human beings are capable, and even encouraged to live within our warm, squishy, cozy routines. The scary word for this is Hedonism, defined as characteristic of seeking pleasure and avoiding pain (weird, I always thought it had something to do with voodoo dolls). What it means is, we have the tendancy to go with the flow of what's around us...

SO... what was up with the 60's? Is MY generation really a counter culture? and does this maybe have something to do with the our aversion to church?

These three questions alone will cause an UPROAR among culture warriors (and somehow, politics). BUT lucky for me I'm more of an inquirer, not much of a debater.

Going by what I have felt as a (recommitted) church goer, I'd have to say that the cultural view of "Christians"and "Christianity" may correlate with the lack of young people in the church. I believe that the conversations or comments I would overhear growing up, from the mouths of "Christians" who for whatever reason weren't being very "Christlike", had the power to turn me away later in life. A little older now, I know that sometimes people have bad days. Or bad YEARS... and that really when people are being hateful about another group of people, judgmental, or even cynical, in that moment they are not acting out of Christ's love. I truly believe these people need prayer. They are hurting over something, and truly need some agape.

I don't have any answers to these hot topics. In no way am I a social genius, but I do wish that at times of my life I would have been brave enough to not avoid church. I think of all the heartache I could have been saved from, and even the opportunity my true brothers and sisters in Christ could have had to support me, to LOVE me at a time I really needed it the most. (lets be real, I'll ALWAYS need it... praise God.)

Beloved, I believe that when we make Christ the true source of our hearts, people won't be able to deny the love that pours out of us. To say their isn't a NEED to show His love would just be ignorant. But, if you are a Christian, and your reason for not attending church is that you don't approve 100%, or you aren't comfortable I pray that you take a closer look and rethink it. The church wasn't meant to be a 'cultural' reflection of the actions of Christians, but the place where we come together to lick our wounds from battle. Where we find restoration in refocusing ourselves completely on Him. Please, PLEASE don't allow the cynicism to keep you from being part of the body of Christ. He is yours, you are His. I desperately Hope and Pray you find a place to FEEL this, and that your desire for Him grows to outweigh what you have come to know as comfort.

In all His love,

Laurén

To Dream like the KING Dreamer.

Happy Dr. King Day!!!

The more I learn of this man, the more I am in awe of him. When I think of Dr. King, from the stories of his fight for the sanitation workers to his march on Washington, my heart SWELLS with what love I imagine him being filled with. A type of love I can relate to not only because of what he believed, but WHO he believed in...

I wonder... would Dr. King have had such an immense impact if he had not been a Jesus lover? I think of social activists today, some of the most amazing people I could ever have known, but the things they fight for are so very tangible, almost like "Of COURSE we need someone fighting to save the whales, eliminate AIDS, and make the global markets go green." But Dr. King... was a DREAMER.

Sometimes I forget our history. Certain dates and events are memory (so many history classes will do that to you), but to truly KNOW and understand something is to feel it and live it as much as you can without actually having BEEN there. To truly BELIEVE in what this man did, at a TIME where people not only lost their lives for standing up for equality, but were considered foolish for even thinking it were possible. I imagine being a little girl then. Hearing of something on the news that just didn't sit right, or maybe just out of curiosity I'd ask "why?" "Why do we use a separate door? Why can't we sit in the same theater?" to hear that dreadful response from someone older, wiser in year,"That's just the way things are".

I was listening to NPR today where some of Dr. King's closest friends and fellow activists were being interviewed. No matter WHAT the question they were asked, they all seemed to respond on his remarkable character. They talked about how humble he was in everything he did. Humble. As in Humility. It shakes my heart with beauty.

This man was the first to see a world as colorblind, acted on his faith in the love of his neighbors, and was killed for encouraging others to do the same. I have no doubts that what Dr. King knew of Christ's love fueled his fire, and his Dreams.

What a water-walker.

Storm

I needed some music... but couldn't figure out the code junk. Hope you enjoy!!! Storm by Lifehouse cover.

Sleepy days...

I don't know about all parents, but mine have this fascination with seeing me at rest. Although being 25, and making every effort to be as 'grown' as possible while still holding on to that childlike wonder, I still find myself the most comfortable with Mom & Dad around. I have been blessed to have parents love me so much it makes them crazy. Most of what I have come to know about God I've learned by watching the way they love me, my brother, and each other. If I were to guess I would say that being a parent is the closest you can come to experiencing the way God loves His children. Their love is unrelenting and nearly impossible to understand.

My parents love these moments (enough to find a camera). Sleeping sound, at peace, and safely in their watch. They STILL come check on me in the middle of the night when we are under the same roof. Maybe because they want to be reassured (of what? that I'm safe from the boogieman?), but mostly I think it is because they love to experience me at peace. This makes me wonder about the love of my heavenly Father. So often we get caught up in the rules, the obedience, the legality... and I don't know how much we are trying to understand the LOVE behind it. When he IS love.. shouldn't that be the first and most important we should seek to understand, or demonstrate?

Philippians 4:4-7 is a verse I could write PAGES breaking down... and probably will... but right now I want to understand the peace that is talked about.

Rejoice in the Lord always, I will say it again, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and petition with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus.

Here, the peace comes with three given characteristics...

#1 this particular peace is from God (it's not something we can reach, meditate, chant, or buy)

#2 it is transcending, meaning that it moves through and beyond our own barriers and limitations

#3 it is given as a guard to your heart and mind

With my handy dandy iphone Concordance (and yes, they have an app for that), I look up the word used for peace in this particular scripture. So... maybe I'm a nerd but if it means I get to know Him in the way He intended me to... I'm all for it. 

The Greek word eirene (who's root is literally 'to join'), is the word used to describe the state of national tranquility. Meaning, this is the word used to express those times that were exempt from the havoc of war. It is also used relationally to show harmony and concord between people. Because peace and harmony make and keep things safe and prosperous, it was impossible to explain  things like security and growth or abundance, without first noting to this state of eirene used in Philippians 4:4. 

This is what I got from this ONE word... God wants to give me peace. HIS peace. It is different and far better than my own which comes from my own rationalizations and efforts. When I am desperately trying to understand the world around me, with my puny little mind, I am at WAR. I was not created to comprehend our travesties. Having them as the focus of my life only takes me away from being in harmony with Him. Any understanding I receive should come from Him, not me. Without taking an active effort to pursue and understand HIM, it is impossible to have the peace needed for things like security, safety, personal growth, and abundance. I never came to realize how much my Father DESIRES to bless my until He became my desire, where there was no peace of mind I could find on my own and I had to go to Him. Ask anyone who was dropped into a moment of desperate faith and turned to Him, He shows up, to say the least.

I know that like my parents are, He is happy to see me at rest now. Yes, this life is crazy and sometimes I suffer from some spiritual amnesia, forgetting that I am not the one in control. It is then I have to remember to seek Him, ask for his peace to escape the havoc of war, and He gives it to me. I no longer ask to understand, His peace transcends that. My toughest battle has been to learn that some things were never meant for us to understand here on earth, and I know that when I get to heaven they really won't matter anymore. All that will matter will be His overwhelming love all around me, the Joy in dwelling with Him, the peace our internal and physical wars, and the over whelming TRUTH that...

HE HAS THE VICTORY!!!!

Sleep well, 

Ren

Desperate Faith

Be still, and know that I am God;

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!

~Psalms 46:10

Abba,

I’m torn. I’m torn between a sense of urgency and one of peace. Urgency because I believe there is a battle raging on, as you promised, that no one feels empowered to fight. Peace because although I have lived this battle and have the scars to prove it, you are the ultimate victor and healer. I know you will show up for them as you have for me. I know you are showing up already, I just don’t know how I am to go about all this. How do I fight a battle when I know it is already won, but all I see around me are misconceptions and hatred? The lack of understanding is paralyzing, I refuse to let it sideline me. Maybe that’s why the suffering feels good sometimes, because I know it means I get to share in your glory when you’ve conquered it. It reminds me how lost those without you are. How unnecessary their pain is. If only they could experience your love, you love us too much to waste our storms. As I sit in the eye of this hurricane, I’m smiling through my tears because I know your love, and can’t wait to see it change hearts.

The personal battle isn’t the worst part. It never has been. The desires had terrified me ever since I was a little girl not because I knew how the world felt about it, but because I knew I loved you more than anything. My love for you grew every moment I felt your immense love for me. I think I get why Christ loved children and challenged people to see the world through their eyes. Before the rules, regulations, authority, acceptance, and pressures, your love was so enchanting. It was almost natural to get lost in your love. I can’t remember ever feeling more ‘myself’, than when I was little and all I cared about was smiling at strangers and telling them ‘Jesus loves you!’ Like I said, the personal battle wasn’t ever the worst part of it. Seeing the ways it was ‘dealt with’ by those who said they knew you too, was then and still is the most excruciating part.

I can’t remember the exact moment. But looking at pictures of me as a little girl I see where my smile changed. I remember when my Joy became eclipsed my fear and eventually, I learned to hate myself. Every night I prayed for you to take it away. I didn’t pray out of Hope, but desperate faith that I would wake up ‘better’. I knew you loved me and you didn’t want me hurting. I hid my battle because I believed it would be only a matter of time before my prayers would be answered. Eventually, after about two years, my desperate prayers became pleas of escape. I lost site of hope and prayed for an exit. As a little girl I remember praying to not wake up in the morning. My first heartbreak was never over family struggles, a school yard crush, or high school sweetheart. It was over the unanswered prayers of my first love. I had given you my heart and as I endured the heartache I decided that it made more sense to hate myself than you. I knew it had to be me… or something… but it wasn’t being taken away.

From that moment on I lived life with two things on my mind,
#1 Jesus loved me and I loved Him.
#2  I hated myself for something I had no power to change. 

At this point, how I handled these two conflicting realities (and I say ‘realities’ because what we experience and know of the world at a given time is our reality), depended completely on what the world said about them. And when I say ‘the world’, I mean other Christians. People from church. Pastors and church leaders. Parents of friends, teachers, and coaches. I waited to see what they said about it, as a child you trust that these people know the truth. You are naïve enough to believe that you should shape and mold how you feel about yourself by what they say… or don’t say. I began to notice EVERYTHING. From the way people crossed the street away from two men holding hands, or shook their head at the news. The world around me became a plastic bag over my head that suffocated me with self hatred. Except I knew I wouldn’t ever pass out from it. I couldn’t imagine any relief… and I now know that surviving was a miracle instead of the tragedy I thought it to be. 

You never waste a storm. I’d be lying if I acted like it wasn’t a storm. I’d be lying if I said that it still doesn’t enrage me sometimes when I think about all the little boys and girls, grown adults, or those already passed who because of this struggle have failed to come to know you. In saying that, I realize, the sin is not the struggle. Maybe that is why it breaks my heart. The sin, is an opportunity to know you. To know your love. The struggle is unique in that this sin comes with such an expanse of barriers to your love. More misconceptions, and factors that push people away from you than anything I have ever come to know. The labels, the beliefs, the political arguments, the social out casting… everything. I KNOW you love these people. I KNOW that this sin is simply that to you. SIN. The way we see it is so far from how you do.

Abba, I’m weary. I’ve never felt like more of a warrior than I do now. I recognize the battle and that my freedom from it didn’t come from anything other than realizing who you really are. You are LOVE. You do not have to ‘act’ out love or be moved to love somebody ( which would take into consideration who they are, or how same or different their sin), but you ARE love. Did Christ not come to teach us how to be more like you? Why are we FAILING in this? We are not in line with your will in this. I know this because of this aching in my heart. I know your love, but what about THEM? HOW??? When the angels came rejoicing at Christ’s birth they came to the shepherds FIRST. They were outcasts, unacceptable to society because of their 'chosen' profession. And they were the first to know of Christ.

I believe that if Christ were to come back today he would go to them first. He would be walking around the Castro in San Fran, telling stories and sharing meals in boys town Chicago, helping those homeless because of this battle. Cast out by their own families. He would have been the first through the hospital doors in the 70’s when AIDS was a gay man’s disease and men lay dying alone and convicted. We are the ones who failed then and we are still failing now.

I’ve had many struggles. Dealing with death, the murder of a best friend, drug and alcohol addiction throughout my family, mental health disorders, idolatry… all I seemed well equipped to get through. But this one. THIS one I could not get through for or by myself. This is the one where my feet have to dangle. Where I know I have to rely on you every day, and must turn to you for peace and strength. This is where you show up and every time you do I get to learn more and more how much you love me and desire for me to be close to you. Would I ever really have known your love if it were not for this? For being desperate for your love for so long? I wouldn’t have it ANY other way. I am so completely blessed.

THIS is not only my story, but theirs’ too. And I cannot wait to see how you show up. Come father, come. We are so desperate for you. Move in out hearts, break our hearts for what breaks yours, and help us to see this battle through YOUR eyes. Help me to have conviction, humility, and absolute reverence for you. Help me to look only to you for answers and NOT MOVE, speak, or argue before I have acknowledged your sovereignty. And help me Father to hear and understand the whisper, then obey… IMMEDIATELY. Because that is what your revelations call for. Give us the COURAGE to obey, and help us to remember that the battle has already been won, all we have to do is lay down our pride, pick up our cross, and follow you.

Father help us to truly KNOW your love, nothing else matters. Help us to know that your moving in our hearts is not a plea to assist but an invitation to experience how great you are. You don’t need our help, but call those who have the heart to know and serve you better.

This heart is yours. Have YOUR way with it…

I have no one in heaven but you; I want nothing on earth besides you. My body and my mind may become weak, but God is my strength. He is mine forever. Ps 73:25. Amen. 

Laurén