Tag Archives | restoration

{HER STORY} 08: Give Your Tears to God

My grandma is one of the strongest and most independent women I know. When I was eight, I wanted to run a lemonade stand. All I had to do was dream it up, and Grandma made it happen. Nothing seemed impossible for her. I cherish the independence she passed along to me, but through the years I’ve learned that my grandma’s strength comes from a deep dependence on God.

/ / This is her story. / /

Give Your Tears to God

I could not possibly convey in under one thousand words what my grandfather meant to my grandmother, but they had the kind of relationship everyone on this earth longs for. He was crazy about her, and she knew it. They married as teenagers, and the rest is history.

My Pop passed away just six short weeks before my twins were born. My boy is named for his great-grandpa with the big personality and uncanny ability to make people smile. When Grandma came to help me with the twins, I noticed a desire to serve others during a time no one would have faulted her for focusing on her own broken heart.

The source of her strength was her strong God.

Grandma has attended the same church for the last 50 years. God gifted her with selflessness and compassion for the most precious in all of God’s kingdom: the little children. She serves in areas hidden yet vital. For decades now, my grandma has loved on and prayed over babies, toddlers, and the littlest ones who’ve given their hearts to Jesus.

“The most rewarding part is to watch the kids go on with the Lord,” she told me.

She’s been there long enough to watch infants grow up to be worship leaders and missionaries in foreign countries. She’s watched them start families of their own. God has given her the joy of being a part of their stories from the very beginning.  Every baby she sang blessing over is a beautiful memory she treasures.

October 2015 / Grandma holding our youngest (one of her five great-grandchildren)

Grandma’s heart is just as much for young moms as it is the precious children she shepherds. In 2010, she brought her ministry to my front door. Those first three weeks flew by, and when it was time for Grandma to go home, I begged her to stay three more. Of course, she agreed.

At a time when she was grieving and missing her own Jake, she began each morning with my Jake, the child who still gets up before the sun even as a seven-year-old. My grandma used the gifts God gave her as if it weren’t up to her to decide how or when or where.

Blessing others seem to heal her heart in some small, mysterious way. It got her away from home, away from the painful memories. Serving her family gave her a way to continue ministering in the way she loved, yet God kept her hidden and gave her some much needed space to grieve.

I watched my grandma hand her tears to Jesus.

I’ve learned what it means to abide in Christ by watching my eighty-three-year-old grandmother lean heavily on Him during these last seven years of widowhood. When Grandma talks about my Pop, she speaks with the assurance that they will one day be reunited in the presence of the God.

She told me the other day that missing Pop gets harder as time goes on. I really can’t imagine the heartache, but I see the way she continues to love, serve, trust, and give. Her perseverance is rooted in a strong and vibrant faith, a faith that firmly believes God doesn’t waste tears.

When Grandma and I held babies together in a quiet house all those years ago, she told me how God comforted her through the Psalms. Tears rolled down her face as she described how His Word soothed her grieving heart in ways she had never known before. God’s Word became her lifeline on days she thought her pain was too much.

My oldest daughter and I began reading through the Psalms this fall. My grandma’s advice has been a gentle nudging in my heart:

“Don’t just read the words; dwell on them.”

Fill my heart with joy

God’s Word has strengthened Grandma’s faith, and it’s opened brand new doors of ministry. Her deepest pain in losing her soul mate has been transformed into a heart for widows. As she has drawn close to Jesus, He has placed a part of His own heart within hers. When I watch Grandma love on those God has placed in her life, I see the way God, too, cherishes the most vulnerable among us.

Jesus told his followers that the worst possible news would soon happen. He would die. They would be separated from Him, and their hearts would be overcome with sorrow. But they had no idea that He would also turn their sorrow into a precious gift, that His death was the beginning of really good news.

In John 16:20, Jesus said, “Truly, truly, I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy.”  When Jesus spoke these mysterious words to His closest friends, He reminded them of something that’s relevant to every one of us, something I recognize in my grandma’s life:

No one will take your joy from you.

God is leading my grandma to new places far outside her comfort zone, to territory she’s never even considered before. In His Word, in her faith, and in a beautiful partnership with Jesus to further His kingdom here on earth.

May her story comfort those who grieve and encourage us to hand our tears over to God. We can trust Him to replace our deepest sorrow with abounding joy. These are Grandma’s words… for her great-grandchildren, but also for all of us.

“I love the Lord with all of my heart and have found Him faithful all of my years. Fall in love with Jesus. Love His Word and let Him lead and guide you. All your answers to life are found in God’s Word.” ~Joann Smith

0

Consider Him Faithful

In the stillness, God whispers promise: I am making all things new. It can sound too good, too true. Incomprehensible even. The sacred words don’t always match what we believe is possible, yet every one of God’s promises finds its roots in reckless, radical love.

God’s promises reach the very center of our heartbreak.

Some of us are in the season of wait that follows rescue. We wait for restoration, for full recovery. We wait for normalcy to show its face once again. Whatever you’re waiting for, the sensation is universal. It feels long and unending some days. It’s the easiest place to lose hope.

As the waiting sets in, doubt rises. We flounder our way through impatience and wrestle clarity to the ground. Then we wait some more. We wonder if we heard incorrectly or if God just forgot. It’s an endless, exhausting cycle.

Sarah knew waiting, and Sarah knew doubt. I’m sure she imagined the culmination of the beautiful dream God planted in her heart over and over until she had perfected it. I imagine she grew weary of waiting, of wondering why God paused the way He did. “I will give you a son,” He had said.

How would she navigate that space between the promise spoken and the promise fulfilled?

An ellipsis, a series of dots used to indicate a pause or silence, is used when a sentence is left incomplete. Sarah lived much of her life within that empty pause and hollow silence. I wonder how many times she tried to fill that space or what she tried to fill it with.

ellipsis

Eventually she gave in, gave up, and did what every one of us have done in desperation: she tried to make it happen on her own. Her path led to heartbreak, disappointment, deep wounds, and multiplied pain. Our own roads always take us there.

God knew a better way.

He took Sarah to the very end of her child-bearing years just like He takes every one of us to the absolute end of ourselves. Sarah was the object of God’s love and blessing, and so are we. God is the active pursuer, the generous giver, the promise-maker and promise-keeper.

Then the Lord took note of Sarah as He had said, and the Lord did for Sarah as He had promised. Genesis 21:1

The two verbs in this verse connect the heart of God with the hand of God. He took note of Sarah and kept His promise to her. This promise was wrapped up in a bigger, more far-reaching promise. Sarah’s precious son pointed to the perfect, spotless Son of God who would fulfill every promise ever spoken.

Jesus completes every sentence and fills every gap.

The writer of Hebrews used a powerful phrase to sum up Sarah’s life. Despite all her doubts and failures and struggles and questions, “she considered Him faithful.” (Hebrews 11:11)

Do we consider Him faithful? Do we consider that He wants to not only rescue but re-create us? That He notices us, pays attention to our needs and desires, our hopes and dreams? That He moves toward us even as we doubt and wander and fear?

Do we consider that it’s not up to us to make it happen? That all God requires is we come to the end of ourselves and trust Him with everything? Do we consider surrender our path to freedom? It sounds so good and right and true.

I am making all things new. Revelation 21:5

God invites us to believe Him, to take Him at His word. Evidence of His faithfulness surrounds us on the pages of scripture, in early morning sunrises, in everyday stories, and in the dot-dot-dot of life here on earth. Consider Him faithful.

Jesus loves you,

Kelly

0

The War of Awe

A theme of conflict pulses through the book of Daniel. War, opposition, power struggle. Kingdom against kingdom. I notice the spiritual battle that surrounds me, and with God’s help, I begin to recognize the war within me.

My heart is the battle ground where flesh opposes Spirit. All I want to do is look away, look away because it’s too personal, too much. Spiritual growth is spiritual warfare, and the is struggle intense.

In his book, Awe: Why It Matters for Everything We Think, Say, and Do, Paul David Tripp says that sin has made us not only lawbreakers, but awe breakers as well.

“Sin captures and redirects the motivational system of our hearts. Sin changes how our hearts operate… We exchange awe of Creator for awe of created… most fundamentally awe of self.”

War of Awe

Daniel 10 is a lead-in to the final vision of what’s to come for the people of God and for the end of time. 

In the third year of Cyrus king of Persia a word was revealed to Daniel, who was named Belteshazzar. And the word was true, and it was a great conflict. And he understood the word and had understanding of the vision. Daniel 10:1

It takes several reads to recognize Daniel’s name assigned to him by his captors, Belteshazzar. I think it’s intended to remind us that he is not free. Daniel is still in exile, in bondage; he has yet to be delivered.

God uses exile as a means to restoration.

God has given us hearts to know Him; He restores our hearts in this ongoing struggle between awe of self and awe of God. Tripp says, “Spiritual growth is about recapturing your awe.”

Reading through the book of Daniel this summer, I’ve seen the physical conflict between the kingdom of God and the kingdoms of this world. The turmoil in Daniel’s visions mirrors the nightly news feed and reminds me of the ongoing unseen battle.

But I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the desires of the flesh are against the Spirit, and the desires of the Spirit are against the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to keep you from doing the things you want to do. Galatians 5:16-17

In Christ, the flesh no longer controls us; the Spirit leads us instead. Jesus said in Luke 9:23, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.” Daily. We die to self daily. Though our eternal rescue is complete, we look to Jesus to daily rescue us from ourselves.

What God begins, He finishes.

My flesh longs to worship self; the Spirit knows my heart needs to worship God alone. It’s a power struggle called sanctification. It’s an all-out war between the kingdom of me and the Kingdom of God, and I want this war to end.

Jesus Christ has personally carried me from victim to victor. He has made a way—the only way—for this enemy of God to become a child of God. And in the very end, He will win this war of awe.

God recaptures our awe through an ongoing, grace-filled, intimate relationship with us. He created us to live utterly and completely enthralled by Him, and the Spirit gives us everything we need to intimately know Him.

A friend asked me recently to pray that God would light a fire in her to live for Him alone. I told her it would be my absolute honor to pray with her. This prayer reveals humility and an understanding that all we have to do is ask God to do what we cannot do for ourselves.

None of us can spark our own fires.

I can’t. You can’t. The Spirit is our fire, our sanctifier. The realization that sin has hijacked our awe can overwhelm, especially if you’re like me, and you’re just waiting for Jesus to give up on you, because you would’ve given up on you ages ago. This beautiful prayer invites us to turn to God instead and ask Him to do what we cannot do for ourselves.

Spark a fire in me. Keep the fire going. Kindle the flame when it starts to fade.

Jesus loves you,

Kelly

0

{HER STORY} 07: He Calls Me Beautiful

With one hand, she smoothed the wrinkles out of the powder blue culottes her grandmother handmade; with her other, she clutched her lunchbox. Her sister, now a fourth grader, had worn the same embroidered outfit when she started school years before. She found her name printed on a desk near the front of the room and admired each neat, evenly spaced letter. Julie.

When a boy nearby glanced her way, she returned his gaze with a polite smile. He pointed to the spots on her arms and legs and asked, “What are those?” Until that moment, she had never considered the moles that sprinkled her pale skin. But in that tender moment, Julie’s heart began to believe a lie.

This is her story…

He Calls Me Beautiful

By junior high, the lie that something was innately wrong with her had fully taken root. Underneath Julie’s skin was a heartsick girl who longed to know she was beautiful and worthy of love. One day in English class, the boy who sat in front of her turned around and said, “You are so ugly.”

“I know,” she said, her response both automatic and devastating.

As adolescence faded into adulthood, self-loathing became habitual.

Depression clung to her like a wet raincoat. Other than shame, sadness was the only emotion she allowed herself to embrace. “I was addicted to sadness; I actually welcomed the feeling, because at least then I felt something.”

Hopelessness sprouted up through the cracks in her broken heart. Julie clung tightly to a false and distorted image of herself. “I was ashamed of who I was, but I also felt shame in having needs,” she told me. She didn’t trust God with her needs, so she worked hard not to have any. And over time, something inside broke under the weight of that lie.

Shame stole her voice, and voicelessness soon bled into powerlessness. Drowning in despair, she contemplated taking her own life. Months trudged on until she reached the final decision to end it all. As she worked out every detail, she found that the mechanics of it all brought her hope, hope that there was a way out of her pain. God rescued her that day, from the false hope and the false identity and the false life.

It took her years to comprehend the depth of this rescue.

She couldn’t follow through with her plan, yet she couldn’t speak her pain. Not yet anyway. She tucked her secret away, convinced there was no way to let it come into the light. Six years went by as depression crushed her soul blow by blow. She was living but barely surviving. She didn’t believe joy even existed.

Eventually, she reached out for help. She surrendered her broken heart to Jesus and chose to believe He could heal her inside and out. God asked her to trust Him with her whole story so that He could reveal His glory through her pain.

Shame disguises itself as an irreversible personal flaw, but the light of the glory of God exposes shame for what it is: a universal need for redemption. As Julie began to acknowledge her shame, God not only healed those areas of her life, but He began to redeem them as well.

Hidden underneath her shame was a girl who just desperately wanted to be herself.

Julie identifies with the woman in Mark 5, whose physical and emotional pain led to spiritual freedom. This woman bled for twelve agonizing years. She suffered and spent every ounce of devotion and every penny to her name trying to find a cure for what was wrong with her. The blood kept her isolated, and the lies kept her silent.

One day, out of options and out of hope, she decided to reach out to Jesus as He came through her town. As soon as she touched the back of His robe, her bleeding stopped. But Jesus had more for her than physical healing; He had come for her heart. Jesus looked and searched and waited for this desperate woman to come out into the open, to bring her story into His light. “Who touched me?” he asked. Slowly, she came.

When she fell at His feet, she told her story. All of it. 

Jesus’ words reached the deepest part of her and absolved her from the shame that kept her heart hidden, silent, and chained. “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering.” Mark 5:34

For years Julie searched for a way out. For a way out of hopelessness and depression, for a way out of her pain. She discovered that the only real way out was through a relationship with Jesus—the Way, the Truth, and the Life. His love led her into a brand-new life where joy exists and hope is alive.  Over time, Julie learned to replace each lie with God’s truth.

She learned to dance by trusting Jesus one small step at a time.

Recently, during a long weekend hike with her husband, God brought to Julie’s mind the memory of a little girl ashamed of her moles. As God reminded her of His love for her, she came to an open field of vegetation blanketed with tiny red ladybugs. Overwhelmed by this rare scene, she listened and waited for God to speak.

Without their spots, they would just be beetles.

God whispered gently to her heart in the days that followed, Without their spots, they would just be beetles. The spots make them beautiful. You are beautiful, you are lovely, and you are Mine.

Page from Julie's art journal

A page from Julie’s art journal

God took Julie back to the place where that painful lie took root: her first day of Kindergarten. In a field of ladybugs, His truth drained every ounce of power from that lie she believed long ago. And God set her heart free.

Like the spots on those ladybugs, Julie began to understand that her unique need for Jesus makes her uniquely beautiful. She discovered that what makes us different also makes us beautiful.

Our need is neither ugly nor shameful; there is beauty in our need for Jesus.

What the enemy means for harm God uses for our good. He has transformed Julie’s struggle with shame into a precious gift of relatability. Like the woman in Mark 5, God healed Julie physically and emotionally, but He also freed her heart from shame.

Julie has exchanged the lies she once held close for the truth of an eternal hope in Jesus. Her power rests not in her ability to overcome, but in His power, the power that raised Jesus from the grave. He has redeemed her heart and reclaimed her voice to bring glory to His name.

God can use anything to communicate His love- even a tiny ladybug!

God can use anything to communicate His love… even a tiny ladybug!

For Julie, her physical pain has become a precious reminder that God redeems all things.

The moles on her skin mean nothing apart from the beautiful restoration He’s done in her heart.

Even the shame she once felt has been a gift from God, because it brought her face to face with Jesus, her Redeemer.

The glory of God is displayed when we reach the very end and then reach for Jesus.

The enemy uses shame to convince us that our brokenness disqualifies us, deems us unworthy of God’s love.

Only God can turn shame into beauty. The cross, the utmost symbol of shame, is a beacon of beauty and a representation of perfect love for all who trust in Jesus. Our wounds and scars and battle stories are precious evidence that we’ve been redeemed.

This story is so much more than a story of healing; it’s a story about God’s heart towards His children. From the deepest part of His relational heart, God calls us. “Beautiful daughter, you are Mine. Just as you are, you are Mine,” He says.

Because of Jesus, healing, forgiveness, restoration, and freedom are within our grasp. Because of Jesus, we are cherished children of God, precious in His sight, beautifully and eternally His.

“You are altogether beautiful, my darling; there is no flaw in you.” Song of Solomon 4:7

1

Threads of Impossibility

I hate folding laundry. Especially socks. I guess it’s more like pairing than folding. Inevitably, every time I do laundry, one sock always seems to lose its mate. Today, I reach into the laundry basket and retrieve—as expected—one tiny white sock, its matching partner nowhere to be found.

Hours later, as I climb scattered into my car to chase errands on my to-do list, I find the missing sock . . . underneath my seat.

A million different scenarios race through my mind as to how the lonesome sock wound up here, but I have neither the time nor mental stamina to narrow it down. I stash it next to me in the front seat and let the mundane inconveniences of daily life fling my eyes wide open.

I remember a time not too long ago when the thought of teeny tiny socks stuck underneath my seat seemed not only unlikely, but impossible. This sock represents so much more than my dreaded laundry day experience; it represents God’s promise to me kept; it represents miraculous healing I can’t quite explain; it represents the building up of my fragile faith, one baby step at a time.

This sock represents delicately thin threads of impossibility.

There are other threads of impossibility in my life: my parents’ marriage that should have never survived, but is now thriving… a childhood friendship that endured fourteen long years of silence before God redeemed it in the most gorgeous way… destructive habits I considered too deeply engrained within me that are today no longer a tethered part of me… You have your own, I’m sure.

Today, I realize something about each and every one of these that I’ve never considered before:

Someone had to reach out in faith.

Last month I gathered with a tiny group of women to pray. A girl I don’t know shared scripture from her own worn bible. She talked about creation and how everything we see—from the stars at night to the Grand Canyon to the beauty in a sunrise—are just the fringe of all God is.

She went on to talk about a woman who risked everything to reach out and touch the fringe of Jesus’ robe. Because she believed there was more. More for her life, more of His plan to discover, more of His power, more of His love.

When she touched those threads of impossibility, her entire life was altered.

The woman’s story is found in Chapter 5 of Mark’s gospel. She had been bleeding for twelve years, and after spending all she had trying to get better, wound up much worse than when she started out.

A brave thought skirted through her mind the day Jesus came to her town: “If only I touch his clothes, I will be healed.” (Mark 5:28 NET)

If only… If only I reach for the fringe of Him, for threads of the impossible.

She believed she would be healed, and she was . . . but Jesus gave her so much more. He not only healed her, but He saw her, listened to her, and spoke to her. This is the only time in scripture where Jesus uses the term “Daughter.”

Each time God heals me physically, emotionally, relationally, or spiritually, He never leaves it at that. He reminds me that He sees me, hears me, knows me.

There is a difference between brushing up against Jesus and reaching out to touch Him in faith.

The disciples questioned Jesus when He asked the crowd who touched Him. “You see the crowd pressing against you,” they said. (see Mark 5:31) But Jesus searched for the woman whose faith compelled her to touch the hem of his robe, mere threads of impossibility.

Fully God. Fully man. How is that even possible?

Maybe you’ve been there, too, wanting more than anything to reach out to Jesus. I cherish the threads of impossibility in my life, because each one reminds me that He reached out in love first.

All my reaching for Him is really just receiving Him.

Reaching requires courage, because it comes at a cost. The woman in this story recognized this as she fell at Jesus’ feet and told Him everything. Scripture says, “She told him the whole truth.” (see Mark 5:33) Jesus wants all of us. Every part. And He wants to give us more than we ask. He wants to give us the gift of an encounter with Him.

Go ahead and risk it all for the sake of knowing Him. He’s inviting you to give everything—the whole of it—over to Him and trust that He can accomplish the impossible in you.

Don’t settle for casual contact with Jesus here and there. You’ll never be content just gazing from a far. Reach out and touch Him.

Just the hem of His love changes everything.

Reach for what feels relationally impossible.

Reach for real answers to the same prayer you’ve prayed over and over and over.

Reach for the adventure just around the corner you’d never have the guts to dream up on your own.

Reach for the call to serve that will force you out of your comfort zone.

Reach for God’s power, unleashed in your small, daily moments.

Reach for your part in the family of God.

Reach for Jesus, the One who sees all of you, the One who knows you. Daughter, reach out. Let His touch transform you. An encounter with Jesus leaves every one of us radically changed.

Jesus loves you,

Kelly

4

When Modern-Day Slavery Becomes Personal

I could be her.

This wasn’t my first thought, but it’s the conclusion that eventually transformed my perspective on modern-day slavery.

Her face was listed among countless others on the internet. Every last one of her teeth had been removed. For marketing purposes. Her lifeless eyes haunted me when I laid down to go to sleep at night.

Her dignity and worth stripped down to nothingness.

Though I’d probably never meet this girl, I was compelled to pray for her. A torrent of tears overwhelmed me each time I tried to discuss the matter with God.

I felt helpless, hopeless, and quite certain that my prayers lifted up to heaven from underneath the comfort of a down blanket could never make the tiniest shred of difference in this war on humanity.

I called her Sarah even though God knew her real name. For the longest time, that’s all I could do. Just pray. Lift my voice on behalf of the girl whose smile was stolen. Mostly they were angry, bitter prayers.

A fearful darkness crept over me. Sometimes, in the middle of my prayer, I couldn’t breathe. I saw precious life in those eyes. A girl with big, bold dreams.

Somehow, I never saw myself.

I came to terms with how little I knew about modern-day slavery, particularly sex trafficking. Turning my head the other way no longer worked, so I started asking questions. I quit worrying how the answers would affect me.

Most left me altered.

“How could I ever understand her world? Or walk with her?” I asked God. “How could my words ever make a difference?”

My understanding of trafficking was limited to the kidnapped girl chained to a bed in a cellar. I didn’t recognize the prostitute on the street corner who appeared to be in control of her life as a victim, too.

Never before had I considered that a girl can become a trafficking victim just because she is hurt and searching. I didn’t yet understand the slow and methodical way that evil uses trust and love as lures.

Preying upon vulnerability, evil profits from brokenness over and over and over again.

I failed to comprehend that many of the women caught up in this industry will eventually come to accept their lifestyle as shame quietly convinces them that this is all there is.

I didn’t see, because I wasn’t looking.

Though an entire world spanned the difference between Sarah’s heart and mine, one day all that changed. God began to let me see myself in her defeated eyes. I realized I could be her. Nameless face. Crushed spirit. I could be the girl without a smile.

Modern-day slavery became personal that day.

I’ve been broken. Searching. Hurting. Shame has whispered the very same lies, and I’ve listened like I had no other option.

I could be her.

It was a terrifying yet necessary realization. Though I wanted more than anything to run from the thought, I let myself feel the suffocating weight of it.

That possibility changed my perspective entirely.

Eventually, every excuse, every judgment, every misconception, and every lie became exposed by the light of God’s truth. The darkness over me subsided, and God replaced the old picture in my mind with something brand new.

When I prayed for Sarah, I no longer saw her in that hopeless state. I began to see her beautiful smile. I heard laughter deep in her soul.

Because of the cross, Sarah and I can share the same story of hope. No, I’ve never met her. I don’t know the rest of her story, but I do know this: Jesus has the power and desire to rescue her.

The good news isn’t all that good if I don’t believe that.

Modern-day slavery is a personal issue. 20.9 million faces with hopes and dreams and names. Even though we could never conjure up the realities required to truly understand, we can stand with Sarah and all the others who share the exact same horrifying story.

Modern-day slavery is a personal issue.

Start somewhere. Learn more. Ask the questions you’re afraid to ask. Give. Volunteer. Pray, and ask God to make it personal for you, too.

Any one of us could be her.

I don’t know exactly how God will use either of us in this fight, but He has called us all to battle the darkness from a place of hope and to believe wholeheartedly that He can and will win this war. Are you in?

Jesus loves you… and her.

Kelly

 

Resources

The White Umbrella: Walking with Survivors of Sex Trafficking by Mary Frances Bowley 

This book provides a profound picture of our willingness to stand shoulder to shoulder with survivors of sex trafficking.

Traffic Cam App by Exchange Initiative 

TraffickCam allows anyone with a smartphone to help fight sex trafficking by uploading photos of hotel rooms when they travel.

 

Local Ministries

Redeemed Ministries HoustonRedeemed Ministries  {Austin, Dallas, Houston, Chicago}

Provides holistic care to adult women sex trafficking victims, and operates a four-bed safe house (1 of 2 in Texas).

 

Free the Captives Free the Captives {Houston}

Fights the exploitation and trafficking of Houston’s youth, and hosts the Houston Human-Trafficking Conference.

 

Jesus Said LoveJesus Said Love

{Waco, Dallas, San Antonio, Killeen, College Station, Houston, East Texas} Visits commercial sex establishments to build authentic relationships.

 

 

 

0

The Contentment Secret

I’ve been chasing it most of my life. Contentment. Not the hold-your-breath-because-it’ll-be-gone-before-you-know-it kind—real contentment driven by gratitude.

Since the first man and woman messed up and missed out on a God-created paradise, we’ve been grasping after the notion for generations. Either we fear others will mess it up for us, or God Himself might choose to mess it up just to mess with us.

If we’re not fearing the worst, we’re convinced we’re missing out on something better, something more. As a culture, we’re fully saturated in not enough mentality.

True contentment—an authentic satisfaction of embracing who we are and what we have and where we are and how we’re wired rather than wanting more or something entirely different—can only be fostered by returning to the place where our God-given identity was stolen.

The Way Back to Eden

The contentment chase masks itself as a deep, unrelenting desire to return to Eden.

God created a place with boundaries of protection for mankind to be fully loved, fully engaged, fully ourselves. But the serpent told a lie, and Adam and Eve handed over the truth for a bite of something that wasn’t better after all.

I haven’t always recognized that God’s removal of Adam and Eve from Eden was an act of mercy. Genesis 3 records the whole story. The last verse of the chapter leaves a vivid picture of the heavy consequence of disobedience.

“He drove out the man, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and a flaming sword that turned every way to guard the way to the tree of life.” Genesis 3:24

At one point in my life, these words at the bottom of the page in my bible sounded so harsh. At the top of that same page, I found words like, “…they felt no shame.”

I have so far to go, but I return to those tissue paper pages again and again for something new, for some undiscovered aspect of His character He’s yet to reveal to me. Each time, I am overwhelmed in a good and humbling way.

Today when I read about humanity thrust from paradise, angels blocking the way, and a hot, flaming sword in the middle of it all, I see glimpses of a deeper meaning.

Here’s an invitation to view Paradise Lost through the lens of Paradise Restored.

Sin separates us from a holy, perfect God, yet the angels display God’s mercy towards sinners.  The flaming sword was evidence that man became enemies with God when sin entered paradise. But it also represents God’s protection against the lies that led us all down this broken road in the first place.

The tree of life is believed to have had the effect of confirming a person in his or her moral state. By removing man and woman from the garden, God was in fact saving us from ourselves.

Later in the Old Testament, God gave specific instructions for building an ark that would become His meeting place with His people. Though it’s tempting to view Adam and Eve’s expulsion as abandonment, it’s just not true. God never left them on their own.

Golden cherubim with outstretched wings and faces looking downward in reverent awe adorned the top piece, also called the mercy seat. From the place between those angels of gold, God spoke to His people. (See Exodus 25:18-22)

The angels weren’t a reminder that they had screwed up and gotten kicked out of the garden; they represented God’s promise to rescue and redeem what was lost in the garden.

God has been paving the narrow way back ever since.

The noun translated “mercy seat” is related to the verb that means “to make atonement.” A sacrifice had to be given to make atonement. One thing was required: blood on the mercy seat. (See Leviticus 16)

Fast-forward to the third day following Jesus’ death: “Now in the place where he was crucified there was a garden, and in the garden a new tomb in which no one had yet been laid. So because of the Jewish day of Preparation, since the tomb was close at hand, they laid Jesus there.” John 19:41-42

Within a garden paradise, sin obliterated what God created for us to enjoy: unhindered relationship with Him. Centuries later, God accomplished redemption… in a garden.

“But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb. And she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet.” John 20:11-12

An empty tomb. Two angels. One at the head and one at the foot. The mercy seat of God. Jesus was the atonement, God’s perfect sacrifice. His blood on the mercy seat secured the way to forgiveness and restoration with the Father forever.

When Mary saw Jesus, she thought he was the gardener. When she realized it was Him, she grabbed hold of Him.  Jesus said to her, “Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” John 20:17

Jesus is the Way back.

We’ve all longed for something we thought would bring satisfaction or fulfillment. Lies from long ago lure us into thinking we’ll find contentment if we can just wrangle it somehow. Sometimes, we crave what is undeniably harmful; other things don’t seem at all dangerous until we really start examining our hearts.

If we’re honest, we settle all too easily for a fractured form of contentment. The fall left a huge, gaping hole in our hearts that can only be filled by Jesus. Only Jesus. He is the Way back to Eden.

I’m not talking about a place or even a set of circumstances; true paradise is found in a relationship with a holy God who meets every need and fills every longing. The word Eden can be traced back to the root word meaning “delight.”

Every heart was designed to delight in Jesus.

We don’t have to wait until we get to heaven to experience true contentment. Some things we do have to wait for—like the absence of pain and death and darkness. Some seasons of life are harder than others. These are the realities of life here on earth.

Paul wrote to the church in Philippi about contentment. He shared with them the secret he had discovered.  He said, “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. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:12-13, emphasis added)

Jesus is the way back to unhindered communion with the Father. True contentment is possible here and now through Jesus—no matter your circumstance or season.

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.” John 14:6

Jesus loves you,

Kelly

0

What I’m Learning About Change This Fall

What I'm Learning: Fall EditionI love fall, but I can’t stand change. God whispers His language of change, and I can’t decide whether to spring to my feet and dance or run away and hide. Change excites, and change unsettles. Most of the time, change does both.

This fall, I’m learning how God uses the strain of change to draw my heart closer to Him.

Change is inevitable. It illustrates a good and promising sign of growth. We cannot experience transformation without change. If I’m honest, though, I’d rather stay stuck in my tidy, fenced-off, comfort zone.

When my heart experiences the excitement of change, it’s usually a good indicator that my eyes are focused on the new thing God is doing. Unsettledness in my soul often reveals I’m still clinging to the old thing. I tend to release it to God more confidently when I’m honest about what I fear. But still, it’s a struggle.

Maybe the trouble is our aversion to grief.

Why do we think we can let go of the old without allowing grief to do its deep heart work? Maybe it has to do with our desire to bypass grief, because grief is so slow and unpredictable. Sometimes, we’d rather not experience the pain of grief, but our hearts weren’t designed to rush into change without acknowledging the struggle.

Our hearts weren't designed to rush into change without acknowledging the struggle.

There is no way around grief. No detour or fast lane through. We cannot rush grief, and we cannot ignore it. Grief doesn’t indicate that God has failed us. Grief encourages us to admit that something is not right and we need God to make it right. We need an unchanging God to be our constant.

Grief invites us to experience the wonder of a God who cannot and will not ever change.

Maybe somewhere along the way, we’ve started to believe that grief diminishes the good that’s coming. Before the Israelites entered the promised land under Joshua’s leadership, they mourned the death of Moses for thirty days. (See Deuteronomy 34:8) They were right on the cusp of God giving them everything He had promised, but they didn’t dismiss their much needed season of grief.

Before Jesus called Lazarus out of the tomb, Jesus wept with Lazarus’ sisters, Mary and Martha. The crowds that had gathered observed His deep love for His friend. (See John 11:33-43) Yes, grief is a sign that we’ve loved well, but the story doesn’t end there.

When Lazarus walked out of the tomb, God was demonstrating what He would soon accomplish in raising Jesus from the dead, only this time it would be permanent. No more death. No more darkness. No more grief.

When I reflect on my own need for change, grief should be my first response to the weight of my sin. Only in experiencing brokenness can I fully accept Jesus’ love for me. Grief is first, and next is precious, abundant joy for the new life He’s given me—a life I do not deserve.

The gospel is the very intersection of my desperate need to be changed and an immutable God who is willing and able to change me.

Fall paves the path to winter, and spring follows. We cannot skip winter. The cold of winter enhances the radiance of spring. Fall reminds us that this transformation is about to occur right before our eyes. We can’t stop it, and we wouldn’t want to. Not really.

It reminds us that our Creator is in control of the seasons just as He is in control of our ever-changing lives. It reminds us that we, too, need Him to change us moment by moment, season by season. Again and again and again.

Give your heart permission to slow down and savor the change all around you this fall. May this transitioning season draw you closer to the One who makes all things—hard things and awkward things and yes, even dead things—alive and new.

What are you learning this fall?

Kelly

 

0

Revolutionary Love

I’m driving home from the preschool, and there is a van in front of me with a logo on its side panel and back windows. The brightly colored arrows – a green one pointing up and a red one pointing down – catch my attention as I switch lanes. It’s a logo for an elevator company. Two seconds later, I hear the radio DJ talking about a new elevator invention in Germany. I chalk it up to coincidence, but for some reason, I find myself googling it when I get home.

My nagging curiosity leads me to something profound.

It turns out that the way we think about elevators is about to change. Cables are being replaced by a new technology that involves magnets. Big deal, right? Well, actually it is.

By the end of 2016, elevators will no longer be limited to going up and down. They will be able to travel any which way, apparently. This technology will revolutionize transportation, as well as our cityscapes. These elevators will open up a whole new dimension for building design.

Here is a snippet of the article: “A new technology has the potential to break elevators free from their vertical prisons, allowing them to move side to side, at an angle, even go outside into a city. German company Thyssenkrupp has developed a new kind of elevator that uses magnetic levitation, or maglev, technology to propel elevator cabins. Called Multi, these elevators do away with the traditional suspension systems that haul a cabin up and down a single shaft. Without cables, an elevator is no longer confined to a single vertical path.” (You can read the full article from CNN Money here.)

If you’re intrigued, watch this quick video to see more:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUa8M0H9J5o

A statement from the video about change resonates with me. There hasn’t been any relatively new change in this area of technology in over one hundred sixty years. That’s a really long time.

I wonder if this is how people felt about Jesus.

Four hundred years had gone by without any spoken word from God. Centuries had skirted by without any hint of change. Malachi recorded the very last words to God’s people before everything went silent.

“See, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before that great and dreadful day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of the parents to their children, and the hearts of the children to their parents; or else I will come and strike the land with total destruction.” Malachi 4:5-6

Then, after four centuries, Matthew 1:1 opens with the genealogy of Jesus. Between these two bookends- the last verse of the Old Testament and the first verse of the New Testament- God was silent, but He was still working. It shouldn’t surprise us that the vehicle He chose for the unfolding of His redemptive plan was family.

www.carriedbylove.com/revolutionary-love

As I read about this new elevator invention and watch new possibilities come into view, I write these words in my journal and underline them three times: A revolution is required. A revolution is required for change to occur, and Jesus was certainly revolutionary.  He didn’t revolutionize how we build our cities; He revolutionized something much more personal.

Jesus revolutionized relationship.

God wants our hearts more than anything, because He wants to revive us. His love alone is big enough and strong enough to revolutionize our marred concept of relationship. Jesus invites us to let Him change the way we live and the way we love.

Think about your most difficult relationship. Maybe you long for change. Maybe you teeter between losing hope and working harder.  Jesus came to restore our broken relationship with the Father and mend every last one of our relationships here on earth.

No relationship is outside God’s redemptive grasp.

Jesus came to propose radical love, extravagant forgiveness, and abundant grace. The love of Jesus has revolutionized this entire world. He initiated a new way to approach God and a new way to live in relationship with others.

The elevator invention is thrilling, because it revolutionizes how we build. But nothing compares to Jesus’ invitation to a relationship that can revolutionize how we live and love. May His revolution of love continue through each of us.

Jesus loves you,

Kelly

2

Powered by WordPress. Designed by WooThemes

UA-75750908-1