We Dance

Inspired, in part, by Stefanie Gretzinger’s We Dance.
Sometimes I picture myself dancing with Jesus. The other day, during a church service, I nervously wondered if I was wrong to do so. Was it weird, that I pictured dancing with the Savior of the world? Then, in that same sermon I sat in, my preacher specifically said that Jesus wants us to be so close to Him it’s like we’re dancing. And he said it casually, not knowing that through him Jesus was speaking to me. He said, He wants us to be so in step with His ways that we move along with Him in a dance. And I smiled. Because Jesus loves dancing with me so much that He sent words down just to reassure me. So, I decided to write down how it feels to dance with Him. Of course, Jesus sent all these words, too.

I step up to Him, a ball in my throat. The toes of my shoes hit His and I mutter an apology, because we haven’t even started and I’m forgetting the moves. He shakes His head, that same serene smile on His face, and says, “Just follow me.” There’s a weight on my chest that my heart seems to be trying to pound away. He takes my left hand in His, pulls my right hand onto His shoulder, and holds me close. He smells like earth. Like waterfalls. Like air so fresh it hurts your lungs. It instantly stills my heart, calms my breathing, sets my mind in a place that feels like swaying on a hammock under a sea of stars. Suddenly, we’re moving, and I don’t know how but my feet know exactly where to go and my body doesn’t hesitate as it glides along with Him across the room. My thoughts fall away as the wind slides around our spinning forms, and this is life, this is life, this is being alive.

He’s teaching me the motions as we go, never faltering when I am a moment too slow, picking up the pieces of my mistakes without a second thought. I don’t feel ashamed when my mind stumbles and my feet follow suit. In that instant, He lifts me up, places my feet on His and we continue to swing. My slipups do not faze Him; He’s too perfect for them to affect His dance. As the song tiptoes upwards, the beat rising, the power resonating, a laugh tumbles out of me, so sudden it surprises me. He looks at me, grinning, as though my laughter we more melodious than the music to which we sway. And laughs. And that laugh is like a baby’s, like the sound of hope and wonder and enchantment and any good, new, fresh floating feeling I’ve ever had in my life. In His laugh I see my happiest memories sweep through my mind, and my body shakes with more laughter, with pure delight. I’ve forgotten that we’re even dancing. And this is joy, this is joy, this is being alive.

The longer we dance, the easier it is to predict His movements, to know where we’re headed and when. It becomes mindless, this dance, this togetherness, and I wonder how it is possible that I should become one with the One. I think, I am not a dancer. I have not put in the practice, the dedication, to deserve this intricate knowing of motions and melodies. I have not earned the right to be His partner. And, as though reading my thoughts, He pulls back to look at me and mutters, “No, no.” In a flash, I am blinded. The room falls away, the music fades, I lose track of my feet.

I see myself, four years old, playing in the grass of my old backyard. I am lizard-hunting, and as I watch my fat, happy fingers fishing for reptiles, a wave of powerful love slams into my gut. A love I’ve never known, a love incomparable, indescribable, and that love is for four-year-old me, who knows nothing and deserves nothing. I’m so ignorant of it, this love that could tear down cities with its ferocity. But something echoes within me and I know, it’s always been there; this adventuresome girl is followed around by a love bigger than the universe itself.

The memory is traded out and I’m a puddle of pain on the floor; I’ve been hurt, used, violated, at only twelve years old. I can still feel the love billowing inside of me, but atop it is a vicious anger, a roaring lion eager to defend and avenge. Twelve-year-old me is loved with a protective fire, ready to burn all who harm her. I am in awe. Nothing can match this love; a mama bear seems docile in the face of it. It is a five-car pile-up of screeching anger, it is tornadoes ripping up fields, it is an earth-shaker that would destroy everything for little twelve-year-old me to never have been hurt.

A new scene emerges: I’m older now, a wizened veteran, familiar with wounds of all kinds. But still the pain roils beneath the surface, and in this moment its burst forth; I sit alone in my car, as though the windows are a wall shielding me from the outside world. And the sobbing seems like it will never end. But surrounding that young woman, that little girl, I see ethereal arms. They hold me tenderly, but with a steadiness that promises to never let go. And I am struck by a whirlwind, a torrent of complete adoration, of heartbroken torment. And I know: the love is sobbing with me, sharing in the sorrow. I am so universally, eternally not alone. Where I ache, it aches. Where I tremble, it trembles. It refuses to let me bear the wounds alone. That love nearly brings me to my knees. It is a rising flood, covering everything. It is a powerful hurricane, unstoppable, ripping through all my fortresses, all the lies, the shadows where I hide, and the fears that keep me crawling away. It is a love that will not fail. It refuses to give up until its staring me in the face, wiping my tears away, calling me home into its embrace.

My sight slowly returns, and we haven’t missed a beat. My face is swimming with tears. Weighed down with that hurricane love, I hesitate to meet His eyes. I know what I will see there. In them is certainty, is eternity, is a roaring lion that will never stop His pursuit of me. I am seen. And I am known. And this is love, this is love, this is being alive.

We dance.

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How To Make Lemonade

I realize it’s been months and months and months since I last posted on here. I’m not going to make excuses, but I will say that the devil has been throwing everything he’s got at me and my marriage. It’s been a fun time. (Note: sarcasm.) But now I’m back and ready to share all my newfound wisdom with you guys, because what are you supposed to do when life gives you lemons? Make lemonadeand share the recipe.

So here is what I’ve learned in the past five months, in chronological order, so you can see precisely how I got the lemons and what I God did to make a thirst-quenching beverage out of them.

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The first, and possibly hardest, truth that I’ve learned is one that God gave us thousands of years ago. Psalm 118:8 says, “It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust in humans.” I always loved this verse because it validated my “I keep everyone at arms’ length” attitude, but I know now that I didn’t fully understand it. Because despite being apprehensive to trust people, I still chose them over God all the time. I chose to confide my feelings in my husband, to go to him with my hopes, dreams, joys, sorrows, and rely on him for comfort, peace, and love. I relied on everyone but God, and wanted to say that God was the only one I trusted. 1378381411-trustimagesmallWell, I’ll tell you what. At some point in your adult life (for me, just a few months in) everyone you think you can rely on and trust is going to let you down. You’re going to get smacked with the reality that humans suck and it isn’t better to trust them. This will likely crush you. This is a lemon (though a rather large one). It is the horrible truth that we all have to learn if we’re going to yearn for something greater than this world, if we’re going to truly want more than faulty human love. The good news is the first part of Psalm 118: we have a Lord to take refuge in when all the relationships we once trusted have become tornadoes.

My next lemon came alongside the first (it was a storm of lemons), but through sorrow and sweat was accompanied by the first piece of the recipe. To make a very long story impossibly short, my first “big girl” job out of college did not go as planned. The organization was in deep financial peril before I was even hired, and things quickly spiraled out of control shortly thereafter. I was not being paid for the work I was doing, and soon the love of money began to consume me. In a recent Bible class, the speaker brought up the prophet Jonah, and how he’d become outrageously angry and morose when God took away a plant whose shade he’d been resting in. Jonah loved this plant, which God had graciously given to him, more than the people he’d been called to prophesy to. And he felt indignant, justified in his anger when the plant was taken from him. in_greed_we_trustI did this with money. I cared more about getting what I “deserved” than paying attention to my marriage, and I let this need for success and monetary security drive me into a depression. In the aftermath of my mistakes, while standing in a pile of my regretful decisions, I found the first ingredient for lemonade: do not chase after worldly success. As college students and recent graduates, it is so easy to be swept up in the notion that we must go to school. We must do internships. We must build the perfect resume. We must find the perfect job. We must rise and create a life for ourselves, a career, a foundation. This is a trap, my friends. Life has no guarantees and we are not owed anything, and thinking that we are only leads to eventual hurt. There is a reason that Paul advises, “Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth.” (Colossians 3:2) and why the wise Solomon says, “He who loves money will not be satisfied with money, nor he who loves wealth with his income; this also is vanity.” (Ecclesiastes 5:10). If you want to find happiness and contentment in all things, don’t put your desires in a career and money. Don’t make that your first priority, and don’t let worry about it creep to the front of your mind. Is it going to get you to Heaven? Can you take it with you when you go? No? Then don’t put it in front of the God who died so you could have eternity.

In the midst of all of these difficult lessons, I’ll admit I lost my way. And not only that, I lost my identity. 00025400-drowningThe waves had caught me in their current and were pounding me so continuously that I forgot my own name, or why I mattered as a person. I forgot how to do anything but look inward, at my own pain, and because of that many things in my life suffered. The turning point came when the storm turned into a hurricane, and I was finally shaken awake. I looked around and saw only darkness. It was then that I finally cried out. I was the Israelites, who turned away from God, were conquered and made slaves, and waited until the last possible moment to cry out for their Lord. But oh, when I finally cried out… The God that answered was Power. He showed me only love, and gave me all the help I asked for. He gave me rest. He delivered answers to all my begging and showed me that He can heal anything. I finally understood prayer, and why we’re told to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17) and to “not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Philippians 4:6) The answer to most questions in any given Bible class is usually, “Pray more,” but the Bible says, “When you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.” (James 1:6). prayer-on-my-knees42We can’t pray halfheartedly for God to help just to turn around and keep trying to fix it ourselves. That’s not prayer. It wasn’t until I was on my knees, out of options, out of tricks or plans or hope, pleading for God to take it all out of my hands that He did. I had to believe. I had to need Him more than anything else; I had to trust Him more than myself. I finally saw that I’m destructive, too, and my plans only turn to ruin, and finally when I truly wanted God to be in control of my life, He was. This is the best part of the recipe, because it gives so much freedom. Let the Creator be in control of your life, and suddenly you will feel light. “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

Once I started letting God take care of things, the storm quickly began to die down. And it wasn’t so much that my problems went away, but more so that I knew the Creator of the Universe was taking care of them (and me) and He would see me through. Now, this is where the first lemon, the big, juicy one, got put to good use. With my newly realized outlook on the world (people bad; God good) I stopped taking my problems to man. When my husband and I fought, I didn’t immediately run to my friends for solace. I begged God to intervene, to soften our hearts. When my fears crept up my chest, threatening to boil over, I didn’t call my mother for advice or turn to my husband for reassurance. I climbed into the lap of my Heavenly Father and let him soothe me and make me safe again. I started running to my Dad, my Savior, my King whenever I needed anything, becoming acquainted with His throne and comfortable in His arms. 12And before I knew it, something previously unimaginable to me occurred. The God of the Universe became my best friend. And trust me, I know that sounds cliché and super cheesy. I hear how it sounds when I say it. But I really don’t care, because my BFF can stop the rain for four years, hold the earth still, part seas and raise the dead. If your BFF can’t do those things, you should really consider who you’re taking your problems to first. Because take it from me, the results are much more life-giving when I seek help from the Lord of Heaven than anyone on the earth.

Ultimately, my last lesson is a summation of the whole journey. The apostle Paul, who had been beaten with rods, pelted with stones, shipwrecked three times, and imprisoned, boldly said, “I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.” (Philippians 4:11-12) and I think I may finally understand the secret. Through everything Paul was put through, somehow, amazingly, he survived it all. I can imagine him in prison, looking back on his life and thinking…how did I live through it all? How am I still here? contentment-1Surely Paul realized that he couldn’t have made it through so many trials and storms on his own. So it must have been God who carried him through floggings and beatings and shipwrecks, and if the Lord can do all of that, of course He’ll get Paul through prison, too. Of course He’s going to feed him, and make sure he has money and clothes and companionship. So what does Paul have to fear? What can mere man do to him? That was my ultimate lesson. God does provide. He carried me through the roughest storm, pulled me from the current, kept me breathing when I thought I had no breath left in my lungs. He protects me and cares for me through everything, and so why worry? Why fear? I am content no matter what life brings me, because I know the power of my Best Friend and the love He has for me. He is a God who saves and makes all things work for the good of those who love Him. (Romans 8:28). That is why Paul explains, “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:13) “For your Father knows what you need before you ask Him.” (Matthew 6:8) and the beautiful truth is that He’s taking care of it all. And I am content knowing that.

As painful as the last half a year has been, I am so grateful for the storm. God made so much beauty from so much pain, and I can only hope and pray that I will be able to help someone else by sharing the recipe for God-made lemonade. If you don’t know God yet but would like to, please feel free to ask me any questions you may have. I promise, He’s been carrying you through your storms too.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.  Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” James 1:4-5

“Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” So we can confidently say, “The Lord is my helper; I will not fear; what can man do to me?” Hebrews 13:5-6

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Dawn is coming, open your eyes.