a fall reminder (for myself)

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Taylor and I woke up yesterday and felt run over. He shuffled into the kitchen for coffee and was sitting at the table when I walked in. We locked eyes, shook our heads at how tired both of us looked, and burst out laughing. The last two months finally caught up with us.

Between work events, weddings, and travel over the past 8 weeks, it’s been hard to carve out time to simply be with each other. Those few hours yesterday morning- the ones where we sat on the couch, drank coffee, let the silence be, asked each other questions, stared out the window at the morning light – those were a gift. A mercy.

One morning last week, I woke up not because I wanted to, but because I had to. There were things on my list- work, errands, last minute shopping for wedding shoes – and in my exhaustion, my human self simply couldn’t muster the motivation. It had been almost 2 months of “just keep going a little longer” and I was spent. Instead of starting to get ready for work, I put on sweatpants, grabbed my coffee and sat out on my back porch.

I took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and as I began to pray, my eyes welled up. This particular season has been marked by almost daily wrestling with God. By unknowns and fears and just trying to get through the day. By wrestling to believe that God is who He says He is, that His promises are for me too, not just everyone else. You may have noticed I’ve posted here a little less frequently this fall- the writing is still happening. But sometimes, the writing needs to stay between me and my Dad for a little while.

As the tears came, I began to notice the cool breeze on my cheek. Squirrels and birds playing in the trees. My pup happy as can be dragging around a stick twice his size. The leaves blowing back and forth in the wind, hanging on for the last bit of life until next spring. And I remember:

Call this to mind, and have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end. They are new every morning, great is your faithfulness. 

Every morning since then, I have woken up and read this verse. Because I am human and I so quickly forget. Because literally every day I have to remind myself that I am loved, that it doesn’t matter how bad I messed up yesterday- there are new mercies for me today. I have to remember to give myself grace, that it’s ok to not have it all together, to not have it all figured out because God’s mercy and love are enough for me today. I can stop the striving and rest in Him.

In the verse right before, the writer says that his soul continually remembers his affliction and his wandering, and is bowed down within him because of it. I relate to that- continually thinking about all the ways I’ve messed up, failed, not measured up.

Yet, it’s incredibly beautiful how, as we are in our darkest place, continually convincing ourselves that we’re not good enough, our good Father continually pours out his never-failing love and mercies on us. He speaks into our hurt, our exhaustion, our dark places and says, “You are enough.”

His new mercies and steadfast love are enough. They will never come to an end. That is a soothing balm to my tired soul today. I hope it is for you too.

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i do not seek to escape

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For three years, God and I have been wrestling. The main point of contention… at least on the surface…

Austin.

When I arrived in Austin the August of 2011, I was a shell of myself. Broken down and confused, the last thing I wanted was to be somewhere familiar. I wanted a fresh start. As cheesy as it sounds, I truly wanted a place where nobody knew my name. Where I could flee the previous 12 months and never have to think about it again.

But, God sent me to Austin. A place where a lot of people knew my name. A place where I would have to confront my shame and hurt and what I really believed about God face-to-face. Three years later, He’s still using Austin to do just that.

My default is to escape. It’s been how I cope with life for as long as I can remember. When I was 9, it was an emotional escape. I built a strong wall, and wouldn’t let anyone in. In high school, I physically escaped to my Young Life leader’s apartment and emotionally escaped to boys that didn’t have my best interest in mind. In college, I took any opportunity I could to go. I spent summers working at Young Life camps or traveling to other countries.

This August marks 7 total years of being in Austin, 3 years of being back here after living in Puerto Rico, and I haven’t been able to escape. So naturally, when flight doesn’t work, I turned to fight and begin bargaining with God. I alternate between being angry that I’m still in Austin, and hopeful in all the wrong circumstantial things that I believe will make the tightness in my chest go away.

And now, the possibility of Taylor and I being in Austin for the immediate long term has been set before us.

Let’s just say, things got real. Fast.

I felt like a wild stallion tied down to a boulder, bucking, struggling with all my might, just wanting to bolt, getting more and more frustrated with each passing moment that I couldn’t.

But the Rock held me there.

And in the middle of trying to move the Rock, to get it to cooperate with what I want, I open up to the day’s passage of Acts and read:

But I do not account my life of any value nor as precious to myself, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to testify to the gospel of the grace of God. – Acts 20:24

And then, on one particularly raw morning, as the ache in my chest is real from wounds re-opening and I’m trying to process, I open up to Acts again and the first thing I see is:

I do not seek to escape death.  – Acts 25: 11

It hits me over the head like a ton of bricks. Paul spoke those words while on trial before Felix. He’s on trial for his faith. He was arrested in Jerusalem after the Holy Spirit led him back there. That’s correct: the Holy Spirit led him to a place where he would almost surely face death. And Paul didn’t try to run. Because he values the gospel of grace as precious over his life.

A few days later, I decided to start reading Restless after a few months of convincing myself that word wasn’t exactly how I was feeling. The first few chapters confirmed my fear:

The kind of life you want is on the other side of death.

Complete and total surrender is what God requires of us. He does not share his glory… and I’ve been asking him to. I’ve been running away from the very thing that will bring me true life: death. I’ve seen my life as more precious than the ministry of the gospel of grace. I have been tight-fisted, gripping on my dreams, trying to protect them from the One who builds dreams. He’s asking for a total surrender of my dreams, my fears, my opinions and thoughts about what my life should look like. Austin is a place where I’ve experienced spiritual death. I saw more coming and tried to escape, asking God, “Haven’t I given you enough?” And he gently answered, “No. Unclench your fists. I need what you’re holding in there, no bargaining, no competing, no conditions. Trust me with it. Give it to me.”

It’s as if he’s saying, “It’s been a rough 3 years. I’ve been waiting for you. Are you ready to do this for real now?”

I am. Even a fighter gets tired of fighting for the wrong thing. And so I surrender open-handed. Instead of seeking to escape death, I’m asking God to help me trust where His Spirit leads me. I’m asking Him to help me lean in to the death that I see coming, and to help me believe His words that true life is right on the other side.

What are you gripping that could be keeping you from true life?

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If you’re looking for a great way to read the Bible and experience community check out IF:Equip. They just started their next study on Galatians, so now is a great time to jump in!

 

 

south austin dreaming

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Last week, one of our best friends, Gregg, came over to hang out. It was a simple affair- just me, Taylor and Gregg around our kitchen table talking for 2 hours. Over the past year, really the past 6 months, Gregg has become more like family to us. He lives 10 minutes down the street, watches Rio when we’re out of town, and there’s a decent chance that we’re at each others houses on a Tuesday night.

The conversation this Tuesday ranged from friends, to the Texas border, to hunting and fishing, to plans for Labor Day and New Year’s Eve, and then rested for a while on dreams and our neighborhood. Gregg heads up a ministry for middle and high school students in South Austin called Young Life (YL). Taylor and I grew up going to YL in high school and for both of us, our YL leaders were incredible examples and mentors. My YL leader, Katie, taught me what it looked like to live out a relationship with Jesus. In college, we volunteered as leaders at high schools in Austin, and served as backpacking guides at Wilderness Ranch, one of YL’s summer camps. Needless to say, YL is in our blood, and we believe in its mission.

This past spring, we were praying about a move and searching for places to live in Austin (no easy task right now). We decided to move south, largely because of a desire to support Gregg and the work God’s doing through him and South Austin YL. We didn’t just want to support from afar. We wanted to move into the neighborhood.

As Gregg shared his dreams and visions with us about growing YL, about the needs and realities of our community and possible ways to help, I was reminded that caring for people was never meant to be compartmentalized.

During my trip to India last November, Melody Murray echoed this sentiment in one of our very first conversations. Her business, JOYN, gives jobs to some of the most marginalized people groups in India. They have community, good pay, and learn job skills. That could’ve been enough. But then, she helped one of her employees Karma be reunited with her son, Sonam. She started a micro loan program so her employees could have an opportunity to buy their own transportation. She’s worked with doctors to find treatments so that Raju, who currently doesn’t have use of his legs due to polio, can walk one day. When asked why she goes out of her way, why she goes above and beyond to help these people, she responds with “These people are my family. Why wouldn’t I help them? When you love someone, this is what you do.”

It was a blessing to hear Gregg talk about his same approach in loving kids and their families in South Austin. To hear that for him, YL isn’t just about getting kids to come to an event on a Monday night. It’s about also helping them find places to live, get occupational training or medical care they need, about showing up when their homes are destroyed by floods. It’s about holistic care. It’s about the whole person- body, mind, heart and soul- not just about one or the other. Because loving someone isn’t saying “I’ll tell you about Jesus, but that glaring physical, tangible problem you have? Can’t help you with that.” Jesus didn’t tell the blind man the good news, and then walk away without healing his sight. He didn’t give grace to the bleeding woman without healing her bleeding. Jesus healed her physical ailment first.

I was reminded that people who need help don’t just live in India or Africa. They are not across the ocean or in a different country. They live right down the street. Literally. No matter where you live, there are people who are hurting and struggling. In some neighborhoods, it might look like a burden of financial debt or divorce or addictions. In others, it might look like not knowing where you’re going to sleep that night, or if you have enough money for dinner.

I’ve lived in Austin for close to 8 years now. I think when you live somewhere for a while, when things become routine and normal, it can become hard to really see. To really see places and people, to see what’s actually going on beneath the surface. I feel that especially in a city like Austin. Everyone hears about our celebrity chefs, great musicians and a new festival every weekend, but not as much about our sizable homeless population, people living below the poverty line, gentrification, segregation, abuse, drunk driving, sex trafficking and orphans. These things are real, and they are happening in our city.

Last Tuesday night reminded me of all of that. It reminded me that we were put here for a purpose, that we have the ability to bring hope and restoration to dark places because of Jesus. That if we look at Jesus’ life and how he tells us to live, this is our response: To see. To engage. To be present. To love.