Immanuel.

Waiting. Definitely not one of my strong suits. Whoever said “patience is a virtue” was on to something. Besides being fallen human beings, what is it about being “in the waiting” that seems to make life almost unbearable? And depending on the immensity of the situation at hand, “tunnel vision” can become the greatest side effect of a life chased down by this virtue.

The irony of all this is the fact that despite the hidden treasures this virtue holds, very few if none desire to take the journey towards discovery. With every answer and convenience at our fingertips, we could say that we’ve exponentially advanced over the past century, even over the past decade. However, along this technological venture, we have lost the ability to wait and truly anticipate. Here’s the secret. This virtue called patience is not a destination but rather emerges throughout the journey called life.

Everyone is waiting for something. In Kindergarten, I couldn’t wait to be out of the “nap time days” (now I celebrate if I get a nap!) and by 6^th grade, I never thought I’d see graduation day. Freshman year of college, I quickly discovered that it wasn’t quite everything it had been cracked up to be. I had never felt so over my head. I was sure I would never survive those 4 years but now here I sit with one semester left and graduation less than a year away. And yes, I am now at that “quarter-life crisis” where I am left to decide what I am going to do with the rest of my life… not to mention I am counting the days until I can move out of my parent’s basement.

It isn’t until one has to wait for something he greatly or even desperately longs for that he begins to unearth little truths as he walks along Waiting’s path. Most good things in life must be fought for…actually, I would even dare to say that nothing of value is free. But maybe there is a reason for that. These things the heart longs for should require sacrifice, struggle, and journey. Why you ask? Because pure and honorable things should be upheld with the highest esteem and gratitude…both of which are truly obtained in the valleys and rocky roads of life. Sometimes, though, those good things we once had are taken from us and we know how much value they hold…and honestly, those are the hardest journeys of all.

It’s hard to believe that it was three years ago that my health started to decline. Looking back on it, it feels both immediate and gradual. When you’re young, you feel invincible, as if nothing and no one can bring you down…or that with a little time, the body will be at its best again. A little time. In the grand scheme of life, I recognize that a few years is insignificant. But at 21 years old, 3 years of living in a body that continues to struggle and fight itself day after day…seems like an eternity. Can you guess what I am waiting for? I have never wanted anything else more in my life than to be healthy again. That’s just the honest truth.

With that said, I completely understand that it could be much worse and I praise God for all the things I do have. Although I still fight this battle, I have come so far on this journey. I still have a long way to go but I have a priceless gift that has taken time to receive: The ability to look back on those 3 years and see the overwhelming goodness and faithfulness of my God. Not a chance did I walk (and stumble) alone.

The past few weeks have been, well, not exactly a walk in the park. I seem to go around and around with the Lord regarding this season of life I am in. I just want to see the end—to have it in sight—so that I have something to push towards. I thought by now God would extend mercy and heal me. But that’s what hit me today…I feel as though I was hit by a truck. Maybe, just maybe, my view of mercy has been skewed. 

I love this time of year. I mean, who doesn’t love Christmas? I love the family time and giving spirits that seem to illuminate the dark skies. But most of all, I love that I get to remember the coming of my Savior. After years and years and years (much more than 3) of waiting and great anticipation, the promised Redeemer came to earth to be with us. “He loved us so much that He came to be with us.” I don’t know how many times I have heard that but it hit me in a new way today. In the moments of weakness, fatigue, pain, tears, loneliness, and defeat I have the hope that the God of the universe came and felt all of those things before I was even born. 

How quickly and how often do I forget that? I drive myself nuts. That’s no secret to my God. And that’s where His mercy comes in. Because He loves me, He wants me solely for Himself and His glory. Those who know me well, know that I am quite thick-headed and stubborn. I realized today that maybe God’s mercy doesn’t look like deliverance for me right now. Instead maybe it appears as His presence in the midst of my continued journey…that I might remain near to Him. He knows that my heart desires physical strength and full recovery but what I really need is to be reminded of His dwelling in and with me. Did God bring this upon me? I do not believe that for a moment. What I do believe is that out of His love for me, He is working all things for my good and for His glory. And right now, my good and His glory looks like this…

That I would wake up every morning with a physical reminder that Immanuel (“God with us”) must and will always come through for me. 

If that isn’t the best Christmas gift, I don’t know what is.

Remembering [Rightly].

As I am approaching almost three years of a trying, yet True journey in the battle for my health, I have been reflecting on what I wrote almost a year ago in one of my darkest moments. There is nothing more encouraging than looking back in times of drought and storm and seeing how the Lord has continually walked with us and has brought us to a new dawn.

Shatter.

“Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst…” 1 Timothy 1:15

I hate how difficult it is to hide a mess. Sure, you can shove the mess into a closet or under your bed… but I’ve found that only makes matters worse. The filth and mess becomes stagnant. Unchanged. Apathy begins to set up camp in the heart and mind. Wasn’t it better when the mess was visible? Sure, it doesn’t look very pretty…but at least you recognize you are in desperate need of an intervention… that something has to be done to clean or at least, begin to reduce the mess.

“Beauty in brokenness.” That is the ultimate paradox in my opinion. One that I never understood… but these past 2 years have been a beacon, shining light upon the darkness and uncertainty of the concept.

You may be thinking… “But I’m such a broken, dirty, messy individual… I hold no capability to reflect beauty.” Join the club. If nothing else, this past year I’ve been continually and brutally bombarded with the harsh realization that my once-perceived “all-together” façade has been shattered into a million pieces.

Something I have begun to realize about the state of brokenness is that it clears the dirt and grime that is holding the lies, hurt, struggle, pain, and charade all-together. But as you begin to recognize your own inability to hold it together any longer… all you can do… is eventually drop it, and it shatters. For everyone to see.

Recently, I made a mosaic coaster with my cousin. We were in a bit of a crafty phase this past summer-- and what better way to get your hands dirty than to mix a little plaster and broken pieces of tile… carefully beginning to form it into a mosaic masterpiece? So we began thoughtfully crafting each small, individually-shaped piece into a design. When we were satisfied with the design, we mixed the plaster and spread it amidst the pieces…sure, the pieces were pretty and unique, but were of no use... or so it seemed. Only now were our coasters able to be used—they now had purpose… a purpose that could not be accomplished unless the pieces had been broken and gently placed back together.

It is not until something has been shattered that its innate fabric is truly seen. The moments that reveal the heart of a man are those that “shatter” him. Those dark, hopeless nights that scourge the spirit and break the heart. It is then and truly then, that our brokenness loudly proclaims its presence in our lives—the pain, shame, guilt, and bitterness can no longer be denied.

Shattering screams surrender… whether we realize it or not.

It is what we do with the pieces that will “make or break” us.

I know my initial instinct is to dispose of the broken pieces when something shatters. After all, who wants to deal with that mess? One could be injured by these broken pieces—harmed or burdened by the dreadful brokenness that lies helplessly all over the floor.

But you know what I’ve come to realize? Some of the most beautiful, breath-taking works of art have been crafted by things that first had to be broken. Maybe the original purpose for those broken pieces was not to be shattered… but for whatever reason, they had been.

Life, whether you have experienced it yet or not, has a way of shattering an individual. It is inevitable because we live in a fallen world. The first moment you shatter, you know it. You feel it in the deepest part of your being. It is no secret. And honestly, it’s not pretty or pleasant. You’re left in shock, not completely able to understand what has just occurred. It’s painful to have your fiber (whatever it may be), the very essence of who you claim to be and desire to portray, demolished. What do you have left?

A ghastly pile of shame, embarrassment, guilt, and fear... scattered all around.

At least, that’s what I used to see.

College has been a time of refinement, renewal, and refreshment for me. A season that my God has been redefining my view of brokenness. Because life happens and eventually, you must do something with the pieces… whatever that might be.

For so long, I was the one who shoved the mess under the bed. I’m all about efficiency after all. That option seemed the most logical, and well, Logical  my middle name. That was until I realized only so much fits under the bed. There comes a time when the mess explodes… I was in desperate need of a new “clean-up” plan.

It was then that I discovered that my God—the One who fashioned me together—wanted to restore me. To redeem my broken spirit. To use these seemingly ugly pieces in the creation of something new. Of someone new. These pieces had a purpose. In fact, they were finally in the proper and necessary form to be used for a greater glory.

“He has sent me to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners…” Isaiah 61:1

My God is not only my Creator but my Restorer. He makes ALL things NEW. He is the ultimate Craftsman, taking our brokenness and carefully placing the pieces back together. However, we do not appear the same when He is finished. Never.

Rather, we begin to look more like our Father. For where our own desires, ambitions, pride, shame, and guilt were, there the presence and restoration of our God resides.

“The grace of our Lord was poured out on me abundantly…” 1Timothy 1:14

My broken pieces were (and are) now held together with the “plaster” of the overwhelming grace of my Father. Yes, it was more than evident that I had shattered... there was no hiding that. And it wouldn’t be the last time. But it was then that I recognized that this was the state of being I had needed to be in for quite some time. Broken, shattered, destroyed… before my God.

Brokenness drives us to the foot of the Cross. What other option is there? We are left with a mess, an emptiness, and an unavoidable wrenching desire to be whole once again. It is when we shatter that God fills us with Himself. He gently seeps into our deepest cracks, restoring our wounds, and binding up our brokenness. Our closeness to God—our new and fresh communion with Him gives purpose to those jagged pieces. They now glimmer with a new shade of hope… for they are no longer useless.

In fact, they never were.

They were simply in the wrong hands.

Life breaks and falls apart… but we know these are places where grace is soon to be so amazing. They may be unfulfilled, they may be unrestored. But. When anything that’s shattered is laid before the Lord… Just watch and see. They will not be unredeemed. –Selah

Bloom Where You Are [Planted]

I have never had much of a green thumb. I guess I have never really needed one but I have always found the art of cultivating the soil to be quite fascinating. To have the knowledge of how it is that one particular species of plant life grows and all that it requires to reach its full potential of bloom—would not only be enjoyable but also beneficial for the one that possess the skill. But maybe it’s more than that. What if an invaluable secret laid in the understanding of how it is one thing grows exactly where it is, or should be, planted.

But that’s just it. The tree, shrub, flower, herb—has no ability to plant itself or even to know or understand what it is the planter is doing. All it can do is its part… to establish its roots and grow, right where it’s at, wherever that might be. No control over climate. Soil. Environmental factors. Just to wait, sink in its roots, and grow.

Easier said than done.

What I find to be so intriguing is the transplantation process. Depending on the purpose or need of the plant and the aim of the planter, plants are able to be and are often, relocated. With proper care and consideration, the plant can be uprooted, transported to its next destination, and replanted. Of course, the plant has no jurisdiction in this decision. It can, however, determine the manner in which it will respond to this new environment and rattling, ground-breaking experience. 

You see, the planter would never uproot it only to leave it to die. 

He understands the soil, the climate, the whole shebang. He knows the design of the plant, the limits and strengths. He is familiar with the needs, prospective downfalls, and maximum potential of that which he has moved. The true, well-learned planter would not transplant if he knew the desired location was not appropriate or in the best interest of the plant. But even plants that are thriving are, at times, caught up in this transplant process. This is a curious thing to me.

Maybe it’s because I don’t have the mind, understanding, or perspective of that of a planter.

In J.R.R. Tolkien’s, The Lord of the Rings, Gandalf the Gray comforts the young Frodo as he sets out to embark on his journey to Mount Doom with these words, “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.” 

We all come with an expiration date. It is innately weaved into our very DNA. But sometimes expiration doesn’t mean death per say. It can refer to the ending of a season, of a chapter, of a position in this life. No one calls the shots. It’s a funny thing because we think we do… until we’re uprooted or lose something we can’t replace. We dig our roots down deep and grow but not only do we grow, we become comfortable. The soil becomes our home, our security, and at times… our identity.

Identity is a painful thing to uproot.

Purpose, however, is universal when the plant is at rest in the hands of the planter… wherever it may end up in the ground.

The planter is not naïve to the reality that complications may arise when uprooting the plant from its original soil. The plant might go into shock while being unaware of why its roots can no longer grasp the soil. At least, not for the time being. The plant may die before transplanting because of hope seemingly lost. The planter knows he is taking a risk but does so because he has a purpose and vision in mind. 

A good purpose.

Most often it feels like the exact opposite. It feels wrong, it stings, and sometimes, it even seems evil. It [plant] didn’t ask to be relocated and frankly, would be quite content to remain right where it’s at. In fact, now that it has been forced to budge, it recognizes that moving will be more painful than it ever imagined it would be. The soil has hardened around each root making each individual tear even more excruciating than the first.

Are we not the same?

The winds of change blow, a storm is on the horizon. The heart can almost sense that something monumental is about to occur. The roots of the soul are ripped from the ground as all we have known disappears in the distance. The landscape shifts as we slowly approach the ground. Our new home. We struggle. We thirst for our old, familiar soil… for the way we could prepare for the habitual, life-giving rainfall. The last thing we want to do is settle down. But what other choice do we have? We pull ourselves up and muster all the strength that remains within to drive ourselves down deep. We get acclimated to the area and go about our days as we always have. 

But for some reason, that doesn’t cut it. We somehow know we were made for more than just getting by.

Our routine, our home, our surroundings, our “climate” have all faded into different shades of earthy tones. We almost don’t know what to do with it. Before we know it, we start to shrivel… almost to the point of death. We literally suffocate ourselves as we refuse to allow the new soil to nourish our bones. 

We shut ourselves off from the rain, the grace—that could be ours. 

We become dry, cracked, and useless. Sooner or later, the surrounding soil will not even sustain life. We have forgotten what it feels like to taste the joy of fresh rain, the excitement of new scenery, the thrill of adventure. 

We have forgotten what it means to truly bloom.

 

As I have been reading Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts I have continued to be broadsided with tough, powerful truth. [I would recommend the book to anyone and everyone.] Today’s road trip called for some reading and I was hit hard with this: 

I know there is poor and hideous suffering and I’ve seen the hungry and the guns that go to war. I have lived pain, and my life can tell: I only deepen the wound of the world when I neglect to give thanks…Why would the world need more anger, more outrage? How does it save the world to reject unabashed joy when it is joy that saves us? Rejecting joy to stand in solidarity with the suffering doesn’t rescue the suffering. The converse does. The brave who focus on all things good and all things beautiful and all things true, even in the small, who give thanks for it and discover joy even in the here and now, they are the change agents who bring fullest Light to all the world. 

When we lay the soil of our hard lives open to the rain of grace and let joy penetrate our cracked and dry places, let joy soak into our broken skin and deep crevices, life grows. How can this not be the best thing for the world? For us? The clouds open when we mouth thanks.

The ability, rather—the gift—of blooming is not determined by our lack of preference in location. However, we often allow it to cause us to be jaded and unwilling to try. I have replayed this challenge in my mind countless times during the past few months. I have been so convicted as I have realized more and more that although I have taken root in a new place, rolled with the punches, and wanted to bloom… I have not. At least not as fully as I could. I have allowed my soil to become parched and have slowly, from the inside out, begun to close myself off to the blessings of fresh soil and new rains. My expectations, my longings of what I thought would be, what should be my reality, have caused me to begin to whither. 

But my Planter knows me better than I have [ever] known myself… and He saw fit to bring me to this new piece of land. And He prepared the soil before I even arrived. 

What would it look like if I lived as though I truly believed that were true? That my Planter has had my good and ultimately, His glory, in mind all along?

This is just another day in the life… Learning to bloom where I am [planted].

Give me GO[o]D.

I recently listened to a Matt Chandler sermon that rocked my world. I have not been able to shake the truth and beautiful brokenness of what he shared. So I have yet again been on a journey of processing and digesting the depravity that is this heart of mine... and the steadfast Hope that is my God. Thanks for taking the time to walk with me.

For those of you that know me, you know that I have been on an expedition through a season of suffering for a few years now. However, by no means do I think that what I have faced recently is the worst it could be for me... but it has been a painful process nevertheless. Praise God that the pain of this life does not go without provision of peace, patience, and perseverance for those who are His children.

Pain has a way of forcing you to take a step back. To step back and gain a greater perspective of the chaos drowning out the growth, hope, and strength that can be found amidst the storm. C.S. Lewis put it perfectly, "Pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." I know firsthand that statement could not be more true.

Slowing gaining perspective within and beyond this trial has caused me to ask and honestly consider what it is that is truly driving me. What or who is my driving motivation in this life of mine? But that's just it. My life is not my own. If I am being sincere, sometimes, I don't know what it is that drives me. What it is that gets me out of bed in the morning. As I continue to go throughout my days where my health is uncertain and unstable (although it was never within my control), I quickly have discovered the truth of what Chandler shared in his sermon on suffering-- "If it's [motivation] not in the Cross, if it's not His life imparted to me, if it's not in His resurrection, then I don't have any chance."

Which brings me to my next continual battle...

What do I really believe? What do I believe about my God and His character? Forget my circumstance. No matter what is going on around me, in what or whom would I bank it all on? Bet my life on? Up until my freshman year of college, I had a relatively simple life, without much I had to struggle through. My faith hadn't ever really been tested or tried. Everything in my life had gone pretty well. Looking back, it really was a walk in the park.

Do I believe that God is good? Do I believe that God is faithful? Do I believe that I am His?

When it's all said and done, am I a student, daughter, friend who is His? Or am I, in the end, [simply] His? What is more important to me? What I get to do for God or God Himself? Of all the things Matt Chandler said within that sermon, that statement has continued to resonate deeply within the darkest, most desperate parts of my soul. I praise God that He will not allow me to shake that convicting, yet vital decision of submission I have to make... that we all must make, from my mind. Whether we blatantly decide to elevate ourselves above our God or subconsciously deny His lordship and sovereignty in our lives, we are all making a choice of who is on the throne of our hearts... whether we realize it or not.

With all that said, I know what the Bible says about suffering. And many Christians today would be shocked about what the Gospel has to say about the "problem of pain." In fact, in the Gospel of John, Jesus even goes as far as to promise us that we will have trouble in this world [John 16:33]. Pretty sure that verse alone shatters the concept of the ever-growing Prosperity Gospel. But there is an immense difference between simply knowing and ruthlessly trusting.

Throughout this period of refinement, one of my biggest wrestling matches has been recognizing that I am entitled to nothing in this life. Absolutely nothing. The things and comforts I have lost, relationships that have been distanced, and plans that have been destroyed in the process of my illness have been a harsh awakening of my mortality and lack of control. The multiple changes that have occurred as my illness progressed have quickly woken me to the realization that nothing I had or have now, is my own. My job is to steward and [continually] surrender... not to stamp with my ownership and seize control. I deserve nothing but death. That alone is what I as a depraved and fallen sinner, am entitled to. By His grace, God has far surpassed what I should ever have come to know... new life in Him, hope for a pain-free life eternally, and the blessing of enjoying the people and possessions the Lord has given me to take care of.

So the truth is, I have lost nothing. None of it was mine to begin with. The people and things that have always been most dear to me... my family, my friends, my health... are my God's. "I have a duty to God in them," as Chandler states. It has been a bitter but ultimately, sweet walk with my Lord the past few months as He has begun to lessen the weight and free up my hands of all the things I have felt not only entitled to, but also absolutely accountable for.

So it all comes down to this... Do I want God's goodness? Or. Do I want God? Will I choose to chase after His blessing and lose sight of His beautiful character and in the end, be left in an empty state of counterfeit privilege and entitlement?

Trusting in circumstance will leave one on a roller coaster ride of death. Change is the name of Life's game. Trusting in God's character will leave one in an unfathomable state of peace and strength... amidst the roller coaster of change. Our God alone is immutable. He never has or will... change.

The blessing of "good" from our God is not displayed by how easily and painlessly we can make it through this life. The evidence and goodness of our God was demonstrated forever in the Cross of Jesus Christ. That, friends, is the epitome of unconditional love.

I do not believe that God gave me this disease or illness but He most certainly could have stopped it and has chosen not to. I am human and therefore, will never understand that. Nevertheless I will choose joy. Nevertheless I will hold fast to this Hope that is firm and secure [Hebrews 6:19]. Nevertheless I choose to trust that no matter the circumstance, my God works ALL things for my good [Romans 8:28].

It is ALL for my good and for HIS glory.

Just give me God... for He is the essence of Goodness.

[Who is] Your Mirror?

Right now my church, Pathway, is going through the book of James. I decided that I would read through it over and over, throughout the sermon series. It has quickly become one of my favorite books of the New Testament.

James 1:19-25 says,

"My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires. Therefore, get rid of all moral filth and the evil that is so prevalent and humbly accept the word planted in you, which can save you. Do no merely listen to the word and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it- he will be blessed in what he does."

From a very young age, we learn that taking a quick "mirror check" is what one does before leaving the house. I am pretty sure I have never left the house without doing so. It is second nature. It's as if we allow this piece of glass to determine our worth, as our reflection silently proclaims whether or not we are "put together" enough to face the day. Whether a good or bad hair day, this image is usually what sticks with us...

Needless to say, I was pretty convicted after reading what James had to say concerning where our focus should rest. I quickly realized that, far too often, a piece of glass that can shatter in an instant takes more priority in my life than "the perfect law that gives freedom." And the latter does not fade. Or shatter. Or disappear. Or distract. Or distort. 


"But the man who looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues to do this, not forgetting what he has heard, but doing it- he will be blessed in what he does."

Look intently. The Word of our God gives freedom like no earthly piece of glass can ever give. But don't just look once and walk away. Continue to peer through the pages of the Word of Life. At times, the reflection may be painful, and not exactly what we hoped to see as we are hit with the drastic truth of our depravity. But the Gospel does not stop there. This perfect and priceless Mirror paints the most beautiful picture of Grace you have ever seen.

Who is your mirror?

Two for One.

I am my father's daughter. Always thinking, ever-analyzing, my wheels never cease to turn. It is mind-boggling how I end up conjuring dazzling, deep, and detailed meanings from simple everyday objects and experiences. Although quite odd at times, I praise God for those unexpected, random moments that He uses a seemingly meaningless moment to give me a different, refreshing glimpse into His heart... for opening my blind eyes to those things my Creator made for me and gently placed in my path to truly see Him for who He is... Ultimate Beauty.

Needless to say, I love those things with double-meanings... they sure help to keep this wandering soul focused on my Destination. I lose perspective like it's my job. The waters rise and the storms rage and just like that- my perspective sinks to the depths of the sea. Living in a world like this, one must have a battle plan. It is nothing less than vital.

I discovered very early on that I am a full-fledged visual learner. If I see  something even once, chances are, I will remember it. I quickly integrated this with my plan of attack- to weather even the most treacherous of storms.

Because if you haven't figured it out yet... life is full of them.

So about three years ago, I began to "wallpaper" so-to-speak, the "walls" of my life. Items such as my cellphone, laptop, desk, car, and on the serious war-zone days- even my hands.

I desperately needed to see reminders of hope, truth, and grace wherever I looked.

For those who know me well, know that anchors are my thing. After all, they are pretty cool lookin'. But it's deeper than that (no pun intended). I was reading the book of Hebrews a couple years ago and came across Hebrews 6:19- "We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure..." referring to the hope in the power and promise of Jesus Christ.

So now do I not only see steadfast and secure strength when I see this symbol, but also something I so ardently need and desire- HOPE. And this hope does not disappoint [Romans 5:3-5].

Praise God for practicalities such as this to keep me deeply rooted... because recently I have seen anchors EVERYWHERE... and immediately the Son shines upon my gloomy outlook and perspective of despair.

Isn't our God GOOD?

I have debated starting a blog for quite some time now. I am in a continuing season of refinement- and refinement requires much processing. I process as I write... and need to be in a better habit of doing so. God is teaching me too much for me to allow these moments to slip by only to be swallowed up by busy schedules and demanding time lines.

So I'm going to give this blog idea a shot. We shall see.

Of course, I didn't want the title to be simply thrown together without purpose... so I have been pondering for awhile. I began to think about what seems to be the theme of all I have been learning these past three years...

TRUST.

In the midst of overwhelming and undesired circumstances, I must have a foundation. A foundation that can withstand fire, storm, and the deepest of heartaches. After demoing a few potential "promising"candidates, I have seen firsthand that my Savior Jesus Christ is the One and Only survival remedy- no matter the reading on the rector scale.

My only option in the midst of the chaos? ...Trusting Still.

Despite what this life throws my way, my God asks that I still trust His WORD, for it alone endures [Psalm 130:5; Isaiah 40:8]. I have seen people and things I thought could be trusted, relied on without reserve, crumble from underneath me in an instant.

But the Love and Word of my God knows no end.

And that enables me to continue in Trusting Still. To shout from the rooftops an unashamed proclamation of "nevertheless".

But this type of reckless trust demands further surrender. This naked and vulnerable dependence pleads with and cries out to us to be STILL. To hand over the reigns to the One who sees beyond the horizon of our shallow skies. To present our deepest, dearest desires, fears, "entitlements", and dreams to the Creator of the human soul. To stop striving for control and success and start to be still in the promise that in HIM all things hold together [Colossians 1:16].

To be still in His presence and in our pursuit of Him... to trust in Him.

So this is me and where I am at in this journey called life. No matter the storm, by God's grace, I will continue in trusting [Him] still.