No one gets to name you.

"No one gets to name you,” she leaned in and whispered. I let out a short laugh, but not the joyful kind. All of my life I’ve been named.

Sensitive.
 Average. 
Too much like my dad. 
These are some of the names I would like to forget.

When I was younger, my mother used to tell me with a gentle smile that my name meant “consecrated to God”.  Men and women twice my age would tell me that I was a “wise river”… But is a river really wise if it can’t understand its own depth?

Like how I have such terrible anxiety when it comes to dealing with conflict that I shut down. Or how I always seem to break things, just because I don’t handle anything with enough care. Then there are the things I’ve quit even though I was good at them, simply because I like to feel the challenge of something new.

There were years I tried to define myself through a megaphone, and other years when I hid as much of myself as I could. I believed that anything I tried was better than being named someone or something I wasn’t. I ran and I protected and I fought to be known. I fought for approval, while desperately trying to convince the world that I didn’t need it.  I flailed and I sank, all for the chance to say, “THIS is who I am.”

“You should be [this]”

“You need to change [this]”

"God wants you to be [this way]"

I may not always understand the currents running through my veins, or even consider them wise, but there are some truths about myself I have come to know.

I won’t apologize for feeling too much or loving too deeply in a world that squashes our emotions. I won’t neglect an opportunity to say, “I’m for you and I’m with you,” when I’ve known far too well the shout of, “you’re on your own”. I won’t close off the ache from a fallen world that groans within, but I will embrace the Kingdom that is to come. I won’t be embarrassed by my tears at hearing an unkind word, for those words are a deep brokenness in disguise. I will not be held to a Proverbs 31 standard, but to the words and actions of Jesus Christ. For a Proverbs 31 woman is not contingent on 21 lines of scripture, but on her certainty in her Maker. A Proverbs 31 woman is no one unless she is aiming to be more like her Creator. And I will not be more concerned with the personal lives of others than I am with being personal.

And until then, I struggle to forget all the rest that made me question… me. Because in a world where not enough kind words are spoken, we can choose to speak kindly to ourselves. Remember who you’ve been called to be from the One who matters most, and decide that no one else gets to name you anything that doesn’t coincide. If I expect to be “set apart”, I can’t always expect to be understood. 

And I'm learning that people will always have an opinion of you. Don't let opinions settle into your heart without first filtering them through God's truth about who you are. 

To those who've been hurt by the Church,

We’re getting closer and closer to end of this tour. I dreaded the end, almost since the day we began. I knew it would come and I knew I wouldn’t welcome it. 3 weeks left, and if you mentioned “the end” yesterday, you probably would have gotten a glare and a, “we don’t speak of such things” lecture.  ;)

I wish I could accurately convey all that has happened here, there, and in the deep trenches of my heart – and what is still happening and ruminating inside.

“This will be a life changing experience!”, many said. “How irresponsible of you – to quit jobs to go on a glorified road trip!” others added. Many of you sowed financially, and many more of you covered me in prayer. All I knew was that I was on a mission to start saying “YES” to Jesus every time. This wasn’t the first time I said an “irresponsible” yes to Jesus and quit jobs to do unconventional ministry, but it has definitely been where I’ve learned the most about the heart and cause of Christ.

As we meet new people and stay in their homes, I’ve been stunned by how many people  pour out their hurt to us. Sometimes it’s a subtle story that they brush off immediately; other times, they weep as they share their whole heart, the beautiful mess of it. Several have shared about their scars that were the result of an unfortunate experience with the local Church.

They share, and I ache. I ache for the Church. I ache for the ways my own heart has been jaded and against the local Church. As new friends share story after story of the damage that the Body has done, that has now resulted in intentionally separating themselves from the Church, I feel my heart sink.

The ache that I feel for them, and for the Church, is directly related to my own self inflicted bitterness. As women, we are often convinced that we are a slave to tumultuous emotions;  that we can't help it when our feelings overcome us, controlling what we say and how we act. Contrary to popular belief, anger, tears of self-pity, overwhelming feelings of hurt, even hormonal ups and downs can all be conquered by the Spirit.

I hadn’t noticed until now – that in hearing the pain that others have felt (in the same way that I have felt over a course of 5 years), in praying with them, Jesus was delivering me from my own pain and self-inflicted bitterness. His love and life is far more powerful than our most intense feelings. 

And I’ve learned that for those who are weary and burdened by religious rules and expectations, Jesus promises rest and deliverance. For those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, Jesus promises satisfaction. For those who are in need of refreshing and truth, Jesus promises streams of living water. For those who have been marginalized and cast aside, Jesus promises a banqueting table and a place of high honor. For those who long for reconciliation and forgiveness, Jesus promises mercy and grace. For those deemed “unclean,” Jesus promises embrace. For those who long for communion, there is bread and wine. And for those who long to be baptized, there is water.

And the same things that He offers us, we are to extend to others… even those within the Church.

Especially those within the Church. 

It’s often easier to love and care for the person who hurts you that is far from Christ, but Galatians 6:10 says:

“Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.”

Jesus instructs us to walk in His  love toward all people --believers and unbelievers alike. Jesus told us to love our enemies … But here, Paul placed a priority on helping others Christians.

This does not eradicate our responsibility to show God's love to unbelievers. Instead, Paul was simply saying, "Love must start at home." It would be hypocritical of me to bypass hurting Christians to go find unbelievers to minister to. 

Jesus may have allowed me to go to this place of bitterness, hurt, and frustration with the Church to be able to come to this place of all-consuming love for it. I feel like it’s been an insanely long journey, but I no longer want to withdraw from the Church, I want to be a part of it’s healing. I want to love it like Jesus does. Even when it doesn’t necessarily look like Him. I desire for it to come back to the heart of worship… “…where it’s all about You, Lord. It’s all about you. And I’m sorry, Lord, for the things that we make it… when it’s all about You. It’s all about You, Jesus”

God is always good and I am always loved. All is grace,

All is grace.

These days, I’ve been in a common state of overwhelm. Overwhelmed by the brokenness in this world. Overwhelmed by the ways hurt and broken people exploit and break others and how the cycle continues. I’ve spent a lot of this season/year internally processing how these things keep continuing. How, even as we’re touring, we’re meeting and staying with people who were exploited by someone that week, abused and hurt by someone they loved. I have, at times, lost hope for my Beloved to cover me and us all with His love. I have been overwhelmed with the size of the problem and need. I have wanted to curl up in a ball and cover my eyes at the brokenness that takes place on a daily basis, even within His body. I have spent time in the “weeping room” – hearing the voices of the abused, the exploited, the forgotten, and the lonely.

All is grace.

I received a call a week ago [right before a screening] that a family member had been found dead. After praying on the phone with his widow and praying over his two children he had left behind, I stepped into a screening and watched the same film I had seen 12 times prior. There’s a specific scene in the When the Saints film where it shows a young girl stepping into the safe home as she sets down her bag [bigger than her]. Every time that scene pops up, I am brought to tears. I think about what she’s feeling. 12 years old. Scared. Overwhelmed. Abused. Exploited. Thankful to be rescued? Expectant. Wondering “why me?”

What’s her story? How did she end up here? How did she become a child slave? Does she have parents who fought for her?

All is grace.

We had two screenings simultaneously last night, so our team had to split up. Cole and I stayed in Jackson and showed the documentary at the We Will Go base. We Will Go is an incredible ministry that has placed themselves where most have told them to flee. The infamous Farish street in known for it high crime level, prostitution, drugs, and poverty. Jesus has used them in crazy ways to minister hope and healing to addicts, homeless, and prostitutes that reside in that area. “$7 will get you a girl on Farish street.” Instead of being cultivated and built up and provided for, these girls are owned and used every day. Last night’s screening was at their base and they invited everyone in the neighborhood to attend. What a beautiful thing to see men and women [who are enslaved]  proclaim their freedom in Christ and take the first step towards healing by confessing their sin. We believe that when you name and validate the sin in your life, you rob it of it’s power.

All is grace.

We [Cole, Emmi, and myself] walked around Jackson this morning, just getting a feel for the city and checking out a few local spots while we had some time. We met Mark, a man who stopped us asking for money. He was clearly homeless and got very frustrated when we explained that we would not give him money, but that we’d love to buy him food and pray with him. He almost yelled as he said, “Praying?? Praying will not get me my prescription. You pray for me when I’m gone, fine, but I’ve tried that and nothing has happened”

We talked to him about vocabulary, and how we can limit God with our words… and that, instead of praying for the prescription to be filled, we were going to pray that he would receive complete healing and would no longer need a prescription. He shook his head and wanted nothing to do with that. He said that God wouldn’t heal him and that all he needed was his prescription. He yelled, “You’ve never been homeless, you don’t understand! You probably weren’t addicted to drugs either.” One of our sweet team members shared their story and past of addiction with him, and told him that Jesus was ultimately the only one that can and will heal the hurt that he feels. That the medication is only a band-aid. By the end of our conversation, with tears in his eyes, he finally said, “You can pray for me now, if you want to.” We each took turns proclaiming identity and healing over his heart and that his lack of faith is limiting God. Once we start expecting great things from God, we are able to receive them. And once we choose to bear the cross of suffering we overcome that suffering.

The theme for this week has been, “All is grace”. All new life comes out of the dark places, and hasn’t it always been? Ann Vosskamp says, “That suffering nourishes grace, and pain and joy are arteries of the same heart—and mourning and dancing are but movements in His unfinished symphony of beauty. Can I believe the gospel, that God is patiently transfiguring all the notes of my life into the song of His Son?”

All is grace, to me, means that these things that we view as "dealbreakers" or we think they discredit a good and loving God, are designed to bid our hearts to "come" and abide. To usher in utter dependence on Him and Him alone. That "this too" [whatever your/my "this" is], is a gift. That too is a gift. We start to understand His heart when we can thank Him for pain. We start understand how tightly knit we are to His heart when we break for the same things that He does. That pain isn't to be avoided, it's to be welcomed as a privilege. Jesus said to his disciples once, "Blessed are your eyes, because they see; and your ears, because they hear. For truly I say to you, that many prophets and righteous men desired to see what you see, and did not see it; and to hear what you hear, and did not hear it" (Matthew 13:16-17).

God is always good and I am always loved. 

Patience in the process...

My name means “covenant of God”. I’m here to tell you that I haven’t really been acting like I believe in my definition.

I have lacked confidence in who He says I am. I’ve allowed satan small victories. I’ve given myself over to thoughts of unworthiness and disbelief that God is for me. And that if God really is for me, why do I still try to attain the acceptance of others?

“Eli, you’re 25. You love God. You KNOW this!! Why do you hide the key to the chains that enslave you? And keep you in this place of “keeping up”, of striving towards something that is, ultimately, defined as “filthy rags”.

I am in awe of the art of Story. And how the Master Storyteller weaves us in and out of other people’s Iives at such the right time and place. He creates beauty in The Story by His sovereignty. And in His sovereignty, we learn to trust the process. We learn to trust The One who created the process.

Lately I’ve been overwhelmed with a lack of vision. Feeling misunderstood and discouraged that my life doesn’t really make sense. Wondering if I’ve missed the boat, wondering if what I’m doing with my life is worthy of the calling. Wanting to be intentional with my life and time and be able to glorify Him in the same way my friends were. My friends are doing worthwhile things, they’re creating places of ministry in the E.R. they work in – outwardly challenging and loving the ones beside them, others are overcoming huge obstacles and have completed insanely long journeys and are coming out the other side, knowing God to be good and faithful. Others are in a season of healing and rest, as they’ve invested years of their life in broken parts of this world.

I compare myself to the “togetherness” that I see. I see people navigating this life in their specific “God-shape”, and wondered why I haven’t been able to figure mine out.

{Because if He told me that I was a circle, I could do a great job being a circle}

I’ve often wondered if I’d ever feel like I had it together, or if I’d always wonder if there was something missing. If I slept in the day that He communicated His plan for me and my life. If I picked the wrong door 5 years ago. If my sin was separating me from accurately hearing from Him.

I often feel very discouraged and insecure when people ask me what my life plans are. “What are you doing with your life?” People don’t really want to know what I’m doing with my life for the next 24-48 hours. [ha]

They want to hear clear vision, they want to know in what ways I’ve been educated. They desire to know that I’m moving to a third world country, or that I work a successful 9-5 in downtown Dallas.

I’m sorry for not always answering truthfully. I'm sorry for not always understanding or feeling confident in the role He's placed me in any given season.

My definite answer from now on is: My vision is Jesus. I am a co-heir and more than a conqueror in Christ. My days are written by the Master Creator, and even though I’m not quite privy to my 10 year life plan, I trust the one who plans it.

That may seem futile to many. It may not seem responsible or “grown up”. I plan to proclaim my confidence in the One in whom I can trust. In the One who writes out His story to the point that I have no other choice but to trust and obey [‘cuz there’s no other way]. :)

I share this because I don't think I'm the only one who isn't quite sure what God is up to, but is desperately wanting to honor Him while I'm waiting. Fully convinced that even this time of seeking and trusting is just as important [if not more] than the outcome. 

And He’s giving me all that I have asked for… patience in the process. 

#CloseToHomeTour

I have the gift of adaptability, but the curse of resistance to change. This is what I've come to believe about change: it's good, in the way that childbirth is good, and heartbreak is good, and failure is good. By that, I mean it's incredibly painful, exponentially moreso if you fight it, and also that is has the potential to open you up, to open life up, to deliver you right into the palm of God's hand, which is where you wanted to be all along, except you were too busy pushing and pulling your life into exactly what you thought it should be.

I've learned the hard way that change is one of God's greatest gifts, and most useful tools. Change can push us, pull us, rebuke and remake us. It can show us who we've become, in the worst ways, and also in the best ways. I've learned that it's not something to run away from, as though we could, and that in many cases, change is the function of God's graciousness, not life's cruelty. Finding patience in the process. I am in awe with the art of Story. And the way the Master Storyteller weaves us together in all of these specific ways.

Every 2 minutes a girl is trafficked for the purposes of sex exploitation. Her average age is 13.  

The purpose of the #CloseToHomeTour that I’ve joined, is to challenge the Church to rise to its potential in the fight to end global sex trafficking. The tour hasn’t even begun yet and I’m already on the verge of tears at how faithful God is to my heart. In the brief time I’ve spent with the team, and hearing David speak about the vision for this non-profit and campaign, my own horizons have already been broadened.

Sexual exploitation doesn’t begin with an accidental click of a button. It doesn’t begin with assault. Once we recognize that we exploit the opposite sex with our thoughts, our pursuits, our attemps to fill empty voids, we are able to take responsibility and Jesus is able to rid our hearts of these chains that HE has already loosened us from – the only thing keeping us enslaved is our own hold on those chains. We exploit  others by making another person our idol, our god. We exploit by manipulating them with our words and our actions. We exploit by using their bodies to appease our selfish desires. The issue of sexual exploitation is close to home… it’s in each one of our hearts. We are also the ones that need to be rescued, and in serving, we can actually be liberated and help others to be liberated.

The exploitation of people will only cease to exist once we, as a Body, recognize how we have given ourselves over to our addiction to sexual immorality. I have a hope that we, as humans, would stop looking for someone to fill us, and instead be filled by The One who knows our hearts best. I have a dream that ministries can meet and hearts’ desires can combine and powerful relationships can be raised up in the name of the Kingdom. That prayers be like breaths, and worship be uncontainable.

I believe in a Kingdom to come and a Kingdom that is already being revealed, here and now. 

I'm coming to understand the scripture: 'so Abraham went out, not knowing where he was going' a little more. Laying down everything in my hands and my heart - trusting in the One who can do abundantly more than all I can ask or imagine into the unknown. "Through example births leadership". I asked God specifically not to make me a leader. I'm not wise or deep or eloquent -- in fact, I'm quite broken and awkward and flawed. But I can walk in a manner worthy of the calling that I've received, and acknowledge my own desperate need for a Savior. And in doing so, allow others the freedom to do the same.