the writer and the rest

Look at us, living in an upside down kingdom.

There is so much at stake. . . souls.

There are so many at risk. . . us.

We live in an upside down world that desperately needs to hear the stories of Good News, to know that there is a grace that uprights a fallen world. We live amongst souls that are searching, longing to see the beauty and glory and reality of God. There is so much at stake, and we are the ones who are called to risk everything to reach this teetering world. We. Us. You. I. Called to reach the broken with His love and grace.

There is so much life to be found.

There are so many who need to encounter it.

And in an instant it can be found, with just the mention of the name of Jesus.

To every one of those longing hearts, there is a response, there is a story of grace and redemption to be found. There is One who awaits to respond to their weary heart and bring new life. 

And so, you, in this upside down kingdom, you with a keyboard, you making art, you making music, you were called into this Great Commission. You were called to make His name and His love known to the world.

There is so much at stake and so much at risk, and that is why the world needs your art, because it is all in story, and when it is Christ’s story being told through it all, that is when we will see it reach the nations and every pulsing heart.

But this task, this commission, this request,  it’s impossible. How do we, with keyboards and guitars and pencils and cameras go into all the world, reaching all the nations? Aren’t we all really just like Peter, absolute messes ourselves? I am.

BUT GOD. But God, what does He do? He fills the messes like Peter with the Holy Spirit, just like He did Bezalel. And we see it time and time again throughout Acts, that the phrase “filled with the Spirit” is always trailed by “they spoke with boldness.” (Acts 4:13; 5:29; 9:27).

How then, shall we, with mere instruments go to all the nations?

We simply follow the One who is leading.

We follow the grace He gives and the words that He speaks.

We simply follow.

Begin to pursue the Father and be pulled in closer to Him. That is where it begins, and when we are close to Him, that is when He is able to move through us, reaching this upside down kingdom.

Peter was filled with the Spirit. . . and so he spoke with boldness.

You, with a keyboard. . . you are filled with His words, so tell others His story.

You, with a guitar. . .  you are filled with a song that pulses to become worship unto our God, so share it.

You with a paintbrush, you with a camera, you as a teacher, you as a parent, your life is a masterpiece and it is reflecting the beauty of a brilliant Creator. All of it, every talent, every voice, everyone, it is all His creation.

What is more beautiful art than this?

So, when you make with words and when you craft with lines and when you click the shutter on the lens, you are an artist, looking for His beauty and glory, and as He fills you with the Spirit of God, He fills you with skill and ability and knowledge.

And through your art and through your story, He will heal a broken world.

Because when the name of Jesus is spoken, there is life, restoration, healing, and it floods in without warning. Its always hard not to leave unchanged after encountering the presence of the Sovereign and Holy God.  

This will be the light that will keep driving away the greying sky. And for each morning that the sun rises, again we will rise to this. We will do nothing less than rise, for there is far too much at stake.

The task before us, the request upon us, the commission given to us: it is not impossible. If we do not rise to this, with a fire believing that we are an Esther Generation, lit with the purpose that we are here for such a time as this, and ignited with a passion to reach those outside the gate; that which will be lost, will not just be a chance to change the world, but the souls that live in it. . . and that is immensely far too much to loose.

So, you living life, tell your story and speak it with boldness. For there is a world waiting to hear it, waiting to experience the testimony of God’s grace and glory for themselves.

Tell His story. . .they are waiting to hear it.

for such a time as now

I sit there listening, in a room of other people, its moments like these that you try to soak up as much as you can, not wanting to miss any of the details. Taking to memory every bit of it so that you will not so soon forget it all. But sometimes there is just so much. Sometimes life can be so much to take in and figure out and think about.

While my head is overwhelmed, my soul knows to do the opposite. And maybe it doesn’t realize it always so quickly, but eventually I’m always reminded, reminded to go back to the point of quite, the point of surrender, the point that matters.

And I’m reminded that it’s really not all that difficult.  

We, we are the ones who overcomplicate it all, and when we do, we need to remember whose stage we are on. Remember the role we were called to fill. Remember the One whom we are following. Because when we look back to the Cross and what Jesus died for, the details and complexities fade. For there is no room for that here, not in a moment like this, not when we are at the feet of our Savior.  

It’s as if the wind turns for a moment and a corner of your life lifts and you get an unexpected glimpse of the underside of things. . . His plans and His ways, it seems to steal a bit of breath from the common lung.

It’s if you could see the underside of your life, you’d see that God is over all the details of your life.

Why would we dare to worry when the Creator himself has a hand in every detail, in every twist and turn, in every part of our being. He is there, over and in all of it.

So why would we need to worry about the details.

There is a bigger picture, and I know when I forget to see it, then my head can so easily get caught in the details, and that would leave us missing the greatest story, the one that is unfolding before our very eyes. There is a bigger picture than you and me and the ordinary lives, there is a call, a commissioning, and a demand as believers, to reach those outside the gate.  

How could  those, on the inside of the gate, forget the reason why they are on the inside of the gate? 

They are there for such a time a this. . . right now.  

You are where you are for such a time as this. . . not to gain anything. . . but to risk everything.

You are where you are for such a time as this. . . not to make an impression. . . but to make a difference.

This is the stage we walk on, this is the story we are living. This call, this commissioning; it was for right here, right now, for you and I to walk out fully.  

And so what in the world are we all doing for such a time as this?

We are here right now to hear the groaning of this upside down world, and to let it shake us from the inside, so as to remind us that we were given this life, so we might use it to give life to others. If you life isn’t about giving, then how are you to find real  life? What does it profit a man to gain the whole world, but lose his own soul? 

We are here to make His name known, and to be the hand that reaches outside the gate to those who are loitering at the periphery.

This is why we are here, and this is who we are here for.

a kindred spirit

A friend I’ve never known, yes, that was her. A woman, advanced in years, a friend to the family, one that I had never met before. She was wonderful, captivating, a story teller, the warm-grandmother type, and she seemed to love me the moment we met. You’ve heard the old phrase on being kindred spirits, this was her.

She was a kindred spirit . . . in every way.

When she arrived as our dinner guest that night, she walked through an open front door, and the first thing she did was grab her long skirt and twirl it around fast, then she laughed and introduced herself. She was so full of life! How wonderful!

Instantaneously she fell right into place among us. She settled in the chair next to me…there was just something about her that made it seem like she had been in the family for years. She was the softest woman I have ever met and her presence spoke the peace that was upon her. Immediately I caught the reason behind her overflowing delight and the radiance that surrounded her. She was filled with the love and presence of God. She had a fire seemingly shut up in her bones, just as Jeremiah in the Bible.

It didn’t matter what we were talking about, whether it be food, old memories, funny stories, anything: through every conversation the Word of God was literally just flowing out of her. It wasn’t cliché, it wasn’t old quoted “Thee, Thy, Thou” verses, it was the most genuine heart and love that flowed through everything we talked about.

Because her heart was filled with Him, He was what flowed out of her.

I sat there and as each moment passed, every moment I spent talking with her made me adore her even more. I want to be like this woman. . . soft: because the beauty of God has painted her, wise: because she hears and lives by His words, and loving: because her heart was set on her Savior.

What captured me even more, was the fact that she had such a burden and a heart for this generation. She said to me,  I truly believe it is an honor, a honor, to be alive right now, at this time, there is so much work to be done, and I am honored that I am here so God can use me: right now.

and so, note by note, she plays

To feel the weight of each key, and then to hear it echo back, deep, rich, and riveting with emotion, that was what always drew her to the piano. To hear each note, sounding loud from the keys, to hear it resonate through the silence, that was what inspired her to sit down and play.

She sits down and her fingers remember even when she does not. She closes her eyes and its all there, somehow her fingers always remember how to move along the keys, they never forget. Was it from years of practice, hours of repetition, or was it simply because this was always where they felt as if they belonged. She never forgot how to feel the keys under her fingers. The technicalities have never mattered because once she sits down, her fingers always find their place.

And so, she plays.

The refrain was sounding as it should, and then suddenly the notes keep coming out all wrong. She looked up from the piano, took a deep breath and tried again. Still, it sounded off. Once more the persistence within her urged her to try again, again. Until finally she lowered her head on the piano. Where was this not coming out as it should, where was it going wrong?

Then something reminded her, if you want to play music through the hard parts, then you have to play the left hand alone. The right hand is your default and it will always come naturally, but you have to play the left alone, again and again, and then it will come.

It will come? Would it? Because after an hour of hearing the same inapt notes, it was hard to be optimistic.

So she played again, reminding herself, when you can play the left from memory, you can play through the rest. Note by note, she walked through the lines on the sheet. Note by note, she was committing each one to memory. For when it was time to play through the entire piece, knowing the right notes was the only way to play through the hard parts.

And you can’t really play, unless you know how to play through the hard parts.

And you know how to play through life’s hard parts when you know His love by heart.

She waits for a moment, remembering this. The first note sounds, holding on, and then the rest just come.

It's knowing who He is. It’s knowing His love by heart, His words by heart, His touch, His presence.

It’s knowing Him.

That’s how we play through the hard parts.

it stands alone

I close my eyes, searching for a way to organize all of my thoughts into words. Yet, despite every effort, the only thing that comes to my mind is a picture; a particular scene. I can see it vividly, exactly as it was once described to me. I remember hearing this story and listening to every detail, and now it plays in my head, and I can’t seem to find a way around it.

I’m filled with a deep discontent because I know that it is far too close to reality. 

If you will, imagine for a moment that we are both standing on the top of a mountain, observing everything before us. The flat top that we are standing on seems to stretch for miles. My eyes scan from one side to the other, and then I notice that this wide span is interrupted by a sharp and abrupt edge. It’s a sheer plummeting end to this mountain. Under any other circumstance this scene would be breathtaking, a view to stand in awe of, but right now, any thought of beauty is harshly rejected; simply because of what begins to happen before us. To the right I begin to see a line of people walking single file. At first it seems as if they are heading towards us. Yet, as they come closer, it’s clear that they were not headed in our direction, but rather straight towards this daunting edge. Curiously, they seem unaware as to what lies ahead; simply following willingly. I watch the first person leading this line. They seemed just as willing and unaware as the rest, until the reality of the edge appears. In an instant their face is filled with an immense fear. Yet step by step they continued to head directly towards the edge. It looked as if they struggled to stop the advancement towards the peril ahead, but every effort was wasted. Then I hear a cry for help, as they reached out their hands, pleading for us to save them. My heart falls. I sit here and I’m shaken and unsettled. This is our generation. As the unavoidable outcome appears, in desperation they begin to reach out to those who are not a part of the line. For its then, that they finally realize there was the choice not to follow the crowd, there was something different that they could have chosen. And in that instant they become desperate for hope, for something to hold onto, for something to reach out and save them.

This. Is. Our. Generation. And. My. Heart. Breaks.

It’s in that moment when you come face-to-face with the glaring need of every human heart, that you finally become aware of how personal that need really is. These longing hearts are searching for answers… they are desperate for answers.

The threat, however, is that the world holds an abundance of answers, answers that are readily accepted simply because they are agreeable and comfortable.

People want an answer that will fit into their life, not fill it.  

And this is where we see the paradox of the whole situation. Here we are, standing, ready, and desperate for God to use us to reach this need. There’s an urgency inside of us to share the One answer that will save, that will rescue, and fulfill. Yet, in the midst of this, we’ve slowly acknowledged and even accepted the idea, that in order for society to receive this answer, we have to somehow present it in a way that is going to be acceptable to them. We’ve silently agreed to the idea that if society is going to hear what we have to share, then we have to alter it, even just slightly, so that it will fit into their lives comfortably.

And that’s the problem!

The moment we start trying to form Jesus to look like us and be who we want Him to be, when we try to take His words and alter them so they are acceptable to society, that is the moment when we loose all reality of Who. He. Is.

I breathe deep and begin to think about how simple it is. All we have to do is get back to Jesus, we have to get back to allowing His words, and His words alone, stand before us and do the work. That’s it. We have to be willing to let Him use us, but we have to remember that it’s not by us that we are reaching people. . . it’s by Him.

God’s word is God’s word.

It does not need to be altered to be made more powerful for this generation.

It can stand alone, and when it does it has power. 

As we stand in this situation, as we are faced with this reality, there is a huge opportunity for this paradox to arise and shatter the entire scene. In an instant we can be the ones to get in the way.

It’s terrifying to me, to think that we might be standing there watching that scene happen before our eyes. And as we stand there, we know the words of the One who will save them, and yet we are standing there trying to make it all relevant, trying to find some ‘wow’ factor that will grab their attention, and all the while we are missing them! And more frightening we are missing Him!

It’s even more terrifying to me that we so easily forget and even dismiss the magnitude of God’s power. My heart goes back to that scene, to the picture of the cliff, and I am reminded again of how mighty He is. When we allow God to go first, He does the work it takes to get His words into their hearts.

Why do we so easily forget something that is so extraordinary.  

Jesus leaves no doubt about the meaning of His words. No. Doubt.

There are no variables in God’s word. That means that it is timeless, which means that is it just as relevant today, as it was thousands of years ago. It’s unchanging, which means that the meaning behind what He spoke, has not, and will not change simply because our society is changing.

If we want to see our generation saved, then we need to start seeing God’s word spread like a wildfire. This is where it starts.

But just as we have been approved by God to be entrusted with the Gospel, so we speak, not to please man, but to please God. For we never came with words of flattery as you know . . . so, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the Gospel of God, but also our own selves, because you have become very dear to us. – 1 Thessalonians 2:4-5,8

rooted at the edge

The door closes behind me and I walk across the yard, to the edge of the hill. My hands find the picket fence and I stand there looking out across the valley below.

I stand there and take a deep breath. There is something difference about tonight, everything here seems untouched, unscathed by the haste and striving pace of the world. The landscape seems as if it’s being orchestrated to move along in time. As the light escapes the sky, the pace of things is slowed even more, stilled, quieted, and I begin to feel it in my heart.

I stood there, rooted, loosing track of time because I found Him and I didn’t want to leave. 

There’s no need to keep up with the world because it goes at much too fast of a pace, and if we followed, we would miss the moments like these. . . we would miss Him.

The world can continue to compete to be heard and esteemed and known, the world can continue to strive, but I don’t have to. I can breathe deep and feel God’s embrace, knowing that this sea of peace is the only thing that can fill.

When we give up the need to compete in this world, we can accept that we are complete in Christ.

There is no lack found there, there is no need to be better or do more, because He is enough.

My hands reach up. What more can you do in a moment like that. Then I feel my heart imitating the same movement, soundlessly reaching up, reaching to find the hand of my Father. Reaching for the embrace of the One who would quiet and calm my soul.

This is all that will ever matter: that we open wide enough for Him to fill us.

I don’t need to be heard, because I’m known. I don’t need to strive, because I’m stilled.

Somewhere in between the door and this edge. Somewhere in between my surrender and His pursuit. Somewhere in between hands raised and knees bent low, this is where I am at. This is where He finds us.

that is the grace

Three minutes was all the time it took. Three minutes and my heart was tenderly broken by these words. Three minutes and I was gently reminded of the grace under which I stand. Even though the words of this video can stand alone, I was urged to write them out. One . . . by . . . one. Letting them sink a little deeper. I wanted to make my heart remember this because it is far to incredible to be so quickly dismissed.

- The script from the video above, by Matt Chandler  -

Our default position as strugglers is to believe that God is disappointed and frustrated.

That He simply is tolerating us.

The apostle Paul in Ephesians one says, no, no, no. . . before the foundation of the earth was laid He was going to adopt you, make you holy and blameless in His sight. So, whether difficult days or good days, God’s at work, God has not abandoned you in this difficult season.

HOW AMAZING DOES THAT MAKE OUR GOD?

That in our hypocrisy He is long suffering with us? In our inability to live out all that He would call us to, He continues to lavish upon us His grace?

In Him we have redemption through His blood; the forgiveness of our trespasses according to the riches of His grace which He lavished upon us in all wisdom and insight. 

I love this word lavish: extravagant . . . plentiful . . . over the top. And so now, when the Bible’s talking about forgiveness it is saying that His grace in forgiveness is lavished.

His grace in forgiveness is lavished.

As though it’s too much. It’s ridiculous, a ridiculous amount. It’s over the top. It’s out of control.

Man or woman of God in Christ who is struggling, God does not regret saving you!

He doesn’t regret it!

You haven’t surprised Him, you cannot surprise Him. God is not watching where you are now, watching how you’ve struggled this week, watching how you stumble and fall and regretting the decision to pay the price for you in full. You have no sin, past, present, or future that has more power than the cross of Jesus Christ.

This means that your salvation wasn’t just a past event alone, but that Christ even now is continuing to save you. He didn’t forgive your past sins and now has left it up to you conquer present and future sins.

It means God can rescue! It means God can save!

And it means for those of us who are in Christ Jesus, you do not disgust Him. . . you do not disgust Him.

“Well, you don’t know what I struggle with and how deplorable it is.” Well, I know that Jesus would say that He paid the bill in full, and so what you’re saying is nonsense. That is the grace with which He lavished on us in His forgiveness.

THAT is the grace.

the words I write

Here I am surrounded by words. Every day I wake up and see a world brimming with beauty and there are so many little details that I want to capture and account for. There are so many things that are worth putting into words and yet time only allows me mere moments to narrate it all. 

I look around and in the ordinary I can see God’s love bursting out, His glory and His grace seem to have brushed against all of it. How can anyone say that this is not worth taking the time to put into words, not worth narrating?

It’s worth all of the time in the world!

There's a story unfolding before us, it’s being told through all of these details and we are apart of it. It’s a story filled with hope and daring faith, filled with courageous hearts and bold declarations. It’s the single greatest story and whether you realize it or not, you are moving along this riveting storyline with the rest of us. You are apart of it and have a definite role to play. 

The unfortunate thing is that at times the world can blind us from seeing the storyboard, it can cause us to forget that we were called by grace to step onto the scene.

There was a time when I couldn’t distinguish it, when I couldn’t distinguish the love and glory that was saturating the world around me. There was a time when I was blind to the small graces that were constantly being given. A time when this great story was unfamiliar and unknown. Yet, in the midst of bleakness I was pointed towards the Author, and that’s when His story was revealed. All grace, all mercy, and love were revealed in that moment and that’s when this story became known, became familiar, and finally became real to me.

How then will others know of this great story unless we tell them, how then will they take notice if we don’t show them.

And here is where my heart is at. I’m filled with wonder, captivated and in awe as I watch this story unfold. Today I can see it, it’s all there before me: His love, His grace, His glory. I see it. But my heart burns for others to see it too.

My heart wants others to see the beauty of a God that loves us with an unrelenting love.

My heart wants to pull others in with me, so that they can experience this awe, so they can know this story for themselves.

This is why I’m filled with such a passion to capture this beautiful story and put it into words, so that others might see too.

This is why I write.

Because there is so much worth taking the time to put into words; so much of His beauty that is continually being revealed.

Again, here I am, surrounded by words, but words that are not all my own. I’m privileged to be a pencil in the hands of a writing God who is writing to the world His story. These words are my best attempt at pointing back to the One who is behind them, to the One who is writing out this story and bringing His words to life.

These words are not about me. They are about what He is doing in me and through me. Ultimately it isn’t about what I write, it’s about the One who gives me the words to write.

It’s my hope and my aim that the words I do write show the value of the One who created them. That through these words His story is constantly being revealed and described. That through them you might see your part in all of this, your definite role in His story.

And so, I urge you to look around, look at the beauty that is saturating the world on every side. Take a moment and look, I promise you will begin to see it. In the details and splendor you will begin to see not just beauty and brilliance, but the face of a masterful artist, a marvelous God. Look, even for just a moment, look and you will see it too.

 

My heart is stirred by a noble theme as I recite my verses for the king; my tongue is the pen of a skillful writer. Psalm 45:1

your story was being told

You were often the protagonist in my story; the one taking the risk, living in faith, moving beyond their past, living on love and embracing your identity as a new creation in Christ. I want to tell you that your story mattered. Your life was at times exactly the inspiration that I needed. The character of a young person after God’s heart, perhaps scared of what life was really like, apprehensive of what their future might hold, of what their past might have meant – but all the while stepping out into the life you could live in Christ.
You were brave, faithful and encouraging.
When your story was revealed to me, it was a product of your own real life, and now real grace: I was filled with hope. 
So I want to say thank you. In the past year my own life has experienced growth, and I must thank God for the way He used the unique heart and nature of a Godly example like you to speak truth into my life. I may not have always been as active in your story, in helping you in your journey as I could have been and even wanted to be, but I was observing and learning and growing. At the time I needed to see someone who was real, someone who had hurts, yes, but also victories, heart, and emotions and was willing to be vulnerable by sharing and living their story. By allowing me to see small glimpses of who you were, it meant seeing you both in joy and sorrow, but most all of in reality.
I may have only listened to your story, and at times all I had to offer was my silence, but I was there, and am even now. So to the good person before me, who is living out their transformation, living out love, living out faith, and doing it all in a world that desperately needs rescue and restoration, I thank you.
Its not easy to take this walk of life. But it becomes easier when we communicate, share and help each other – even if that just means our interactions and relationships with each other, in whatever ways those take place, are lived honestly and to edify each other, to both our benefit and to the glory of God. By being and living as the person God made you.
Your heart and your personality – they are gifts. When I saw how easily you seemed to embrace these things, I realized that they were gifts to you, and to us all from God. This became a catalyst for growth in my own life. Your unique heart and nature were revealed in your faith, worship, and prayer, the smile on your face and the daily life you were living. It was all beautiful and good; a glory to God and a blessing to me.
Now, when I think of those times when I felt the most encouraged, I realize that it was often in my observation of God inside of you. Seeing Him shine through in every area of your life, as a bright example to all those who surrounded you. Your walk, your story, and your life was different, indeed – but different was good, helpful, and encouraging.
Seeing you becoming the person that God had intended you to be, made me realize that both of us are in this walk together, heading in the same direction yet with different roles to play in bringing life and hope to this world in our own unique way. Its all bringing me closer to His love, to His character and His heart.

We are similar in many ways, and while we are even striving to reach the same final goal, we each have our own task to encourage each other, to live these lives as Godly examples. It is also in this life that we are called to give glory to God and bring hope to this world; restoring and rescuing the love that is desperately needed.
It was your story that brought inspiration, encouragement, and hope.
It was your story, both told and untold, that helped me discover parts of my own.
So, to you my dear friend, continue to tell your story, so that others might find theirs as well.

I have always known you

Quicker than I would have hoped; our destination appeared ahead of us. Our conversation fades and reality sets in a little deeper.

We have arrived.

Settled deep into the land there is a little blue farm house that is surrounded by different pastures.

The first thing to catch my attention is the front door. It bids a warm welcome with its deep rich red color, its an odd but fitting contrast to the color of the house. It looks worn to the eye at first, but considering the surroundings, its appearance merely suggests that it is a home. Not yet ours; but a home none the less.

Before our car even has a chance to stop, we are greeted by two barking dogs. All of sudden the quiet serenity of this little farm seems to be harshly broken. Situated behind the house is a small wooden barn and from it I see a tall individual emerge. Their hood is pulled over their head and slowly they begin to walk towards the stirring commotion. As quickly as the tension had rose, composure was found once more and the dogs were hushed with a few words from their owner.

In an attempt to avoid the rain and yet still bid a warm welcome to us, the individual only slightly pulled their hood above their eyes, and with genuine words we were introduced. It was when her eyes met all of ours that I felt as if I had always known her. She looked weary as if she had been hard at work all day. I quickly got the feeling that she was unaware of our planned visit, hence the frazzled look upon her face.

None of us knew that we would meet on that rainy afternoon, but God did, He planned for it.

After our greetings were exchanged and the situation explained, our conversation began to change. Within moments it was as if we were reunited friends, comfortable and joyful in each others presence. Soon our new friend began to share bits and pieces of her life story with us. All was vague, but still she shared with us, and along the way I began to pick up what I could and fill in the blanks. I stood there watching her story unravel before my eyes. She was an only child who grew up in this house, the walls know memories and the fields know the joy. There was so much of her intertwined within every part of this place, it was clear to see why she was so attached, this was a part of her that she was leaving behind.

As the story continued another reason for her attachment began to surface . . . her father. This was his house, and in his absence it had been all that she had to hold onto; all that she had left to remind her of him. Now I know. Now I see my friend, I see why its so hard for you to leave this place, the memories, the recollections of all you have ever known, it can’t be easy to walk away from it all. I understand, truly I do.

I stood there and my heart felt like a string had been attached to her, and I wondered why. God why to this person whom I may never again see in my life, a person who I’ve only known for twenty minutes and yet I feel like I’ve know her my whole life. I feel like I’ve been there with her through everything she’s told us about, like I’ve been there living her story with her, and yet why?

I didn’t plan this. I had no idea that I would have been standing here with this stirring in my heart at this moment. Yet God did.

He knew, and He knows even when I still have no answer to it.

As her story finished my eyes caught hers. And what I saw in her eyes I surely know was in my own; that ever-so familiar fear, the fear of the unknown. There we are, each one of us standing in the drizzling rain, face to face with an unknown reality, standing there without a clue as to what the future will bring.

Yet in it all I remember a hope for all of us; a hope that will hold us up when we eventually have to step into this reality and risk all we’ve known and been confortable holding onto. It’s a hope that knows when we walk with Him the new realities and changes that we face will never be enough to weigh us down.

Our farewell was long-lived as we all knew that we would probably never see each other again. And then I feel it again: that string tugs at my heart as we begin to depart.  I know its to remember her, to remember her story, to remember her in prayer because for whatever reason, God had orchestrated that time and place for that particular encounter.

With everything in me, I prayed that the words we spoke and the encouragement we were able to offer was able to blow hope into her soul, because I know it surely was blown into mine.

There’s never a void reason behind moments like those.

God knows . . . He always knows.

the reality in front of me

As we drive down the highway, scattered raindrops begin to hit the windshield. Yet we are lost in conversation, completely unaware.

The words that fill the air hold more weight than all of the details around us. The sound of rushing cars, the city street lights reflecting off every surface, the subtle hum of music in the background. All beautiful details and yet, right now they are unnoticed.

A weak smile forces itself into the reality that is in front of me. You would think by now I would be used to this; accustom to how it all goes. But the reality is that change is inconvenient. It is unwelcome because we are afraid of the unknown.

We are creatures of habit. We find comfort in regularity and routine, simply because we know what to expect.

It’s the small amount of comfort that our morning cup of coffee can bring, its the regular drive to and from our daily destinations, and in the faces and people that we are surrounded with everyday. Somewhere within it all there is is meaning. While me might even despise the monotony of it all, there still lies comfort in knowing that it is all constant and assured. 

In a world of constant change, we tend to reach out in hope to grasp anything that is definite and unfaltering. Therefore we tend to find comfort in routine and regularity, because as far as we can tell, it is one of the few things around us that is unvarying. 

Yet, when something out of the ordinary comes along and forces us to dig deep, it all suddenly becomes jarring. In a moment, all comfort and familiarity are gone and we are not quite sure what to do next.

The veracity of change, unfortunately, is that it is unavoidable.

The curious thing, however, is that in our everyday lives we experience change all the time. Yet  these small instances never seem to be quite as jarring or unsettling.

Perhaps it is not so much the change that we fear, but the fact that through it we loose our grip on familiarity and comfort.

Perhaps this is it more than anything . . .

tell your story, love

The music is pounding in my headphones, which makes me feel  like I am a world away. Yet as I look around, every part of me feels like I am here, relaxed deep in this chair, sitting amidst strangers, soaking up every detail, every ounce of warmth the building has to offer.

The noise in my ears fades and another song rises, this with a different mood than the last. It makes me think, makes me wonder about those who surround me. Sometimes I can see strangers and only see strangers. I miss seeing their stories, their lives, and when I take a moment to notice, its there.

Oh it’s there.

It’s all there.

Sometimes it’s just laced so deep that many don’t notice. And I know deep in my heart, that many has too often been me.

I don’t know what the words are but I see their mouths moving and I imagine. It’s a group of friends, laughing and enjoying simple time together. Amidst the group there’s two particular beings whose story was easy to catch a glimpse of. There he is, sitting across the group from her; a young lady, quiet, yet just as alive as the rest. He begins to talk and his hands dance wildly in the air, he’s happy to see her, I can tell. Finally, after finishing, his shoulders lowered and his fingers wrapped around the warm cup of coffee that was brought to the table. But through it all his eyes continually raced back to meet hers. He’s in love, you don’t need sound or words to know that. Soon the conversation between the group died down as they sipped their steaming cups of delight.

I smile and drift my attention to all of the others scattered across the room.

My music still beating in my ears. It feels like I am in a dream, like everyone around me is moving to the music. Moved by every beat and cue, all flowing together in time.

There’s a elderly couple sitting at a table near the window, and my heart melts when I see the gentleman make his wife laugh. She closed her eyes and when she opened her mouth you could see the laughter surround them. Then after she caught her breath she looked back at her husband and touched his hand. Oh how precious to have a love that makes you laugh, even after all that time. They carried on in conversation, relaxed and completely oblivious to the world outside. 

I bring the cup in my hands up to my mouth and sip slowly, determining whether my coffee has finally reached the perfect drinking temperature, and to my fine surprise it has. Then all of a sudden my attention is beckoned towards the door as a little bells dings and announces the arrive of another guest. Through the door a young lady walks in. As she closed the door behind her she stood still for a moment and seemed to breathe it all in. A wave of settlement seemed to quickly replace the look of the haste on her face. She looked relieved, as if she had returned to a familiar place. She ordered her drink and then settled into an available chair. From her bag she pulled out a worn book and opened it to a particular page, seeming to continue right where she left off. Within seconds she blended into the rest of us, content and settled in this beautiful place.

As I continue to sip my coffee, I feel something stirring inside of me. Then, it starts to show up. Slowly, but its there. And when it does, I see it clearly and I take a deep breath. I feel the weight of it deeply, yet it soothes my soul, and I let it move me the way it wants to.

Even without words, these people don’t seem so much like strangers anymore.

We are, every one of us, just like them.

We wait, we dream, we chase the right words. We sip slowly, wanting to taste every moment, clinging to the way it warms us and in a way touches our souls. And so we sip slower, in an effort to hold the moments like these just a little longer.  

Amidst all the others, there is another girl, her own story being told. She hides amidst the peaceful chaos, content in the moment she’s found. Her keyboard is her confidante, and she’s absorbed in a world of words.

She spends her days watching, writing, waiting…

Years ago, she heard a voice when there was only darkness. It was, to her, a promise that she would never be alone again.

Eyes heavenward, she drank it deep, savored it fully, and let it bring her the life-breath she was gasping for.

And even now, she remembers. 

And above all else, she chooses to believe it.

“Tell your story, love. And when you do, they will certainly hear theirs…”