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06/18/2012

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Someone Else’s Dream

I got a phone call on Friday morning asking if I could bail a friend out and watch his kids on Saturday. In my mind I knew that there were twenty other things I should probably be doing. The rest of my weekend was completely booked and the only time I had to do all those things that needed to be done was Saturday morning. I probably should have spared myself the chaos and said no, but I didn’t.

And as I was making a dessert for another commitment and writing an article until eleven o’clock at night, I started to wonder why I had over-committed myself. Why was I putting off (or rushing through) all these need-to-do, have-to-do, want-to-do things so I could watch a couple of kids instead? The answer was pretty simple:

I believe in Isaiah’s dream.

You know how you can watch a ballerina dance or a musician play and get the feeling that the person was made for this? That’s how I felt the first time I saw Isaiah do a Wild Earth Encounters presentation.

And here my friend had been handed an amazing opportunity that he could only be part of if someone would watch his kids for a day. I couldn’t say no. Because the only thing more wonderful than chasing after your dreams is giving someone else an opportunity to chase theirs.

So believe in your dreams and pursue them with everything that is within you, but never become so focused on your dreams that you neglect someone else’s. Let your friends know that you believe in their dreams and always be willing to come alongside them and show your support.

Trust me, even on the craziest days you won’t regret it.

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06/15/2012

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You Are Worth It

Today, I’m at a loss for words. It happens from time to time. I keep typing letters onto the page only to delete them and try again. Still I find that my words are insufficient as everything within my heart tries to rush out all at once. The phrases jumble together. Trip over the next. And somehow I can’t seem to say how important it is that you know you are beautiful. That you understand that God doesn’t make mistakes. That you grasp the depth of His love for you.

But the words are missing and and those kinds of words have conditions, anyway. Not that I’m going to change my mind and take them back the next time you make a mistake, but because you will want me to take them back. Because you will argue that if I only knew who you are… What you’ve done…

I could say it all day in a thousand words or more, but until you believe them for yourself, my words are meaningless. Empty. I may be talking to someone in the world, but I’m certainly not talking to you.

Oh, but I am talking to you. You and you only. You’re the one who needs to hear it. And how I wish I could take your face in my hands like the preschoolers I spend time with every weekday afternoon. “Hey you,” I’d say, “you’re worth it. You are one incredible human being.” And I would mean it from the bottom of my heart. “Hey you,” I’d say, “you’re beautiful. You are one breathtaking masterpiece.” And I would pray those words wouldn’t bounce off of the carefully crafted wall you’ve built to protect yourself – the one that is actually harming you instead.

You’re the only one who can penetrate that wall. You’re the only one whose words are loud enough to force truth into the darkened corners of your wounded spirit. So please, take it from someone who sees what you are somehow missing, and tell yourself that you’re worth it.

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06/11/2012

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Unfinished Stories

Once upon a time there was a girl who weaved stories in her spare time ~ a girl who dreamed of touching the world in a way that was deep and true, poetic and magical. But this girl was told that she would never touch the world in such a way, that such dreams were made for the fairytales, and that “real life” as we call it doesn’t work that way. “Impossible,” they told her.

And sometimes she believed them.

But then there was Hope ~ a flimsy, fragile creature that alighted on her shoulder and whispered endless possibilities in her ear. And the heroine of this story had to choose between the cold reality the skeptics screamed and the joyous promise Hope offered.

The end.

Because, as Laini Taylor wrote in her book Daughter of Smoke and Bone, “The story is unfinished. The world is still waiting.”

The world still waits for hope and dreams and magical things that flutter around on fairy-like wings. The world still waits for promises kept and tears of compassion that haven’t been wept. The world still waits for someone who will step right over What Hasn’t Been Done and embrace All That They Should Do.

The world is waiting for you.

And while the unfinished story that started this post is entirely mine, you are an unfinished story, too. You’re an unfinished story with intricate details of a plot and a purpose that hasn’t been fully formed. You can write whatever you want on the pages of your life. You can choose to listen to what the skeptics scream or step up and embrace your impossible dream. And while what you should choose sounds so easy in writing, it’s hard to silence the skeptics. It’s hard to hold onto Hope.

That’s why I determined to let God finish my story. Because while I so often lose sight of the things that are important, God never does. So I promised Him that I would hold the pen if only He would guide my hand. And in light of my dangerous promise, God asked me to do something I had decided I never wanted to do again ~ at least not for a long time.

I’m working up a proposal for another non-fiction book. It’s about hopes and dreams and how God turns nobodies into somebodies, but that’s all I’m going to share for now.

After all, the story is unfinished, so I’ll have to leave you waiting.

In the meantime, go write a story of your own.

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06/08/2012

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“Hope Makes Its Own Magic.”

I’ve admitted before that it’s often hard for me to live the journey. It’s hard for me to find joy in the midst of the mundane. Day after day, I find myself whispering reminders to take back today. But the more I venture into the vulnerability of others’ writings, I’ve come to the conclusion that the fairytale spirit does come somewhat naturally to me.

Because I do believe in happy endings.
I do sing random songs as I’m cleaning the house.
I do let myself get caught in daydreams.
And I do dance with the fireflies on Midsummer’s Eve.

I don’t do all of that because it’s what I think I should do. I do it because it’s who I am.

Some of the stuff I’ve been reading here of late has been really dark. The subject matter is heavy and some of the quotes are capable of ripping my heart out of my chest. I could deal with all of that if it weren’t for the obvious lack of hope. When I read things like, “There’s no going back. It’s too late. What’s done is done,” I experience a range of emotions. First, I hurt for the person who wrote such disparaging words, then I get a little angry. I get angry because I can’t help but think, “How do you know it’s too late to bring beauty from these ashes? Who are you to say that you’re beyond Redemption’s reach?”

I get angry because there are people who try to limit God and destroy Hope.

And I know that some many people have lived far worse lives than I have. And I know there are situations beyond our control that are capable of knocking our feet out from under us. But I can’t comprehend the lack of Hope.

Because even on my darkest days, Hope lingers. And though I’ve written some pretty desperate journal entries and a couple dark poems, one thing differentiates them from the stuff I’ve been reading lately. It always ends with me waiting for rescue and believing that help is on the way. I always leave room for Hope.

Which takes me back to the story of Pandora’s Box.

Pandora. The young woman who released evil into the world and dared to let Hope in along with it. I think that the reason her story resonates with me is because I’m just like Pandora. I would open the box twice. Even after I’ve been burned by all that is evil, I would dare to take a chance on Hope. Maybe that makes me stupid. But at least it gives me Hope…

Today, I’m taking that gift I’ve been given and releasing it to the world. Embrace Hope, my friend, because life is such a cold, lonely place without it.

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06/05/2012

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Light Bulbs, Airplanes, and Impossible Dreams

“Fear wants to stop our stories,” Anne Jackson writes. And I think I’m going to have to read the chapter over again because all I saw was that simple sentence. So at the risk of writing something that might already be written let me tell you why that sentence stopped me in my tracks.

I think most of us are more aware of our dreams than we care to admit. When someone asks you what you want to do when you grow up and you reply, “I don’t know,” I’m inclined to wonder whether you honestly don’t know or whether you’re afraid of what you do know. Because Fear has a way of killing our dreams.

The thing about dreams is that they’re larger than life. Impossible, even. And maybe in your heart you know what you would really love to do if there were no possible way you could fail. So what do you want to do with your life?

And you’re still saying that you don’t know because the big question I just posed was “if.” I said “if” there was no possible way you could fail, but that’s just the thing. There are countless ways you could fail, says Fear. And if you fail, people are going to laugh. If you fail, you will have wasted your life. If you fail, you’ll have nothing to show for yourself but a pile of shattered dreams.

But listen closely before you close the door on your dreams, because Fear says the same thing I did. “If,” Fear whispers. “If.” And maybe all those things Fear says are true. People may laugh and your dreams may shatter if you fail. But there’s no guarantee that you will fail. And what’s the harder life to live – the life of someone who dared to pursue their dreams regardless of what the critics said or the life of someone who died having never attempted to do that one thing that beat in their heart?

One day your heart will stop beating and your dream will die with it. Unless… Unless you dared to give it life before you encountered death. Because some dreams outlive the dreamer. In fact, I would imagine that most dreams do.

Don’t believe me? Hit the nearest light switch and see what happens. What happens is all because Thomas Edison dared to dream that there was a better source of light than candles. And he burned a few candles in the process of making that dream a reality. A new friend of mine is boarding a plane back to Barcelona tonight, but I never would have even met her if the Wright brothers hadn’t quit their day job and decided to invent a flying machine.

Light bulbs and airplanes… Impossible dreams. You can bet that there were critics. You can bet that Fear screamed that it couldn’t be done. And history shows there were failures. The dream didn’t fall together in a day. There were setbacks and frustrations and things that didn’t work.

And you can bet that these dreamers got discouraged. But they didn’t let their temporary failures destroy their dreams. Because they knew in their hearts that lights were made for shining and men were made for flying and that, one day, in the not-so-distant future their dreams wouldn’t seem so impossible after all.

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05/31/2012

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But I Don’t Even Know What I Want {A Guest Post}

Have you ever believed you wanted something only to find that it may not have been exactly what you wanted after all?

Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt and then decided the shirt wasn’t as great as it looked on the hanger. Such is life.

Which is why I’m over at SingleRoots today talking about how I may not know what I want, but God always knows what I need.  Hop on over and check it out!

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05/29/2012

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Some Questions Are Better Left Unanswered

It seems like every time I turn around, someone within my online community has been debating the goodness of God. Is He good or is He not? Does God really love the world, or is He spiteful and vindictive? Because how could a God who claims to be Love allow so many things to go wrong? Why does He stand back as we endure suffering and pain?

I nearly lost my family on Easter Sunday. They were driving home from my grandma’s house when a car came flying across the interstate and nearly crushed the family minivan. Except, somehow, miraculously, it didn’t. And my family is alive. You can bet I was praising Jesus so hard I was weeping when I heard that news.

Last week, my young friend Mackenzie lost her dad to cancer. How can it be that a mere six weeks after I praise Jesus for sparing my father, Mackenzie loses hers? Is it fair? Is it just? Can I call that the work of a loving God? And if I can, would I still be saying the same thing if I had lost half of my family in a horrific car accident and Mackenzie’s dad was miraculously healed of cancer? Would I still believe in a God who loves if everything had been ripped away from me?

I’d like to say I would. In fact, I honestly believe that I could. I honestly feel that, under all the hurt and anger and confusion, I would still hear that still, small voice saying, “Rebekah, my child, I love you.” And I’m 98% convinced that I would believe it. Because I’ve believed it for twenty-one years.

Because I have lost people I love before. And yes, it was hard (and still is hard some days). Yes, I was angry and asked questions that haven’t fully been answered up to ten years later.

But you know what I’ve realized in the midst of the pain? Sometimes Love does things that don’t make sense to the beloved. Sometimes bad things happen so better things can come. Sometimes the losses we experience make room in our hearts for greater joys. And beauty really does come from ashes… eventually.

In case you were wondering, these aren’t the words I would tell Mackenzie, because they aren’t the kind of words that heal so fresh a wound. Because, deep down in her heart of hearts, Mackenzie knows what I know. She knows that God loves her. She knows that everything happens for a reason. But right now, those answers aren’t what she needs to hear.

Maybe the reason that God elects to leave so many questions unanswered is because He knows that what our hearts truly seek isn’t answers after all.

God’s silence in the times that we are hurting isn’t a sign of His indifference; it’s His way of standing alongside us in the midst of a myriad of empty platitudes. Maybe He doesn’t offer answers because He knows what we really desire is to be understood in a world that can only try at understanding. Maybe He holds back the words because He knows that what we truly need is simply to be held amidst the awkward shoulder pats and sympathetic smiles of the people who don’t know how to handle our grief.

Knowing the answers doesn’t take the pain away. It won’t give our loved ones back or miraculously heal our broken hearts. But knowing that God is there to carry us through when we don’t have the strength to carry ourselves… Well, sometimes that’s the only thing that drags me out of bed in the mornings.

So, for now, I’m content to leave my questions unanswered and keep my God close by. Because I choose to believe that Jesus loves me… even when He doesn’t say it out loud.

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05/24/2012

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The End of the Story

He left a steady job, sold his house, and said goodbye to the woman he planned to marry, all because God called him to some country he knew nothing about. In obedience, he pursued this calling halfway across the world trusting, but never truly knowing, that God had something glorious in store.

He was in the country a whole two weeks before the government sent him home. He was angry, confused, and more than a little bitter. Why? he wondered. God, why did You send me here? Why did You make me sacrifice so much for nothing?

But his sacrifice was not for nothing. Because even as he struggled to find answers, someone else was searching too. Someone else was reading the Bible he left her. Someone else was finding herself found in the One True God. But our friend didn’t know this – almost never knew this. In fact, he could have spent the rest of his life thinking his sacrifice was in vain. Except this new believer tracked him down to thank him. She came to his house to tell him the story of how God spoke to her through His Holy Book and how she was called to minister to her people – something this man had not been allowed to do.

Often, our sacrifices seem to be in vain because we don’t know how the story ends. We don’t know the impact of our love and prayers. We don’t know if the words we’ve spoken bounced off a hardened heart or seeped into fertile soil. We just don’t know. And so we get frustrated. Disappointed. Angry, even. We look to the heavens and ask, “Why? God, why did You send me here? Why did You make me sacrifice so much for nothing?” When all along, our sacrifice is making a bigger impact than we know.

So be encouraged, my friend. Your questions are not the end of the story. Something much greater is at work. And while you may not find your answers this side of eternity, one day you’ll know how the story ends. Don’t give up just because the call may not make sense in this moment. God could be using you to bring hope, change lives, and touch nations.

You just never know…

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05/21/2012

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Overflow

Yesterday, during youth group, Ray played a video that started with the image of a glass of dirty, dark water. Then these two young people opened their mouths and began to speak about who we are in Christ. As the Truth poured from their lips, a faucet started dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip.

The longer they spoke, the more the faucet opened. From drip to steady trickle. From steady trickle to a nonstop stream of clear water. The water poured into the glass until it overflowed, forcing the original, contaminated water out and replacing it with the clean substance that gives life.

I loved the imagery in that video. Because that is exactly what Truth does for us.

There are so many lies in the world. Lies that we hear every day. Many of those lies are easily identified, but others… Others are easier to accept as truth. Others sink more easily into our hearts and cloud the view God intended for us to have of ourselves.

There’s this thing called Truth. And most of us know the Truth, but find it so easy to forget. So impossible to believe. But the Truth remains:

You are a child of God, chosen before the creation of the world.

You are more than a conqueror.

You are redeemed from the curse of the law, delivered from the power of darkness, and free from condemnation.

You are the salt of the earth and the light of the world.

You are the bride of Christ.

You are God’s workmanship, created to do great things.

You have been given abundant, overflowing life.

You, just like the clear glass of water from the video, have something to offer the world. Something that is pure and beautiful and life-giving. You have Truth.

And though the world is busy pretending that it doesn’t need Truth, there are billions of people on this planet who are aching for what you have. 

So let the Truth sink deeply into your heart. Let it transform the way you see yourself. And let it overflow until it brings life to this dying world.

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05/18/2012

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To Tickle the World

Steven James, in his book Sailing Between the Stars, ponders the roles we play in the body of Christ. He compares a couple of friends to an earlobe and a fingernail before speculating that he might be a whisker on God’s cheek.

I laughed when I read that and wondered, “Why a whisker?” An earlobe I understand and fingernails are necessary, but a whisker? What good is that? I feel that if whiskers were truly important, all of humankind would have them, but as you may have noticed, most (but unfortunately not ALL) women do not. And the majority of men in our culture shave them off. So again I ask: “What good does a whisker do?”

I started wondering why Steven James would compare himself to something so seemingly useless. Then I began to wonder why the rest of us do the same. Why do we look at our lives and think that the gifts God has given us are too small? Why do we look at all the fingers and ears and even eyelashes of our world and think we are somehow less than them because we are whiskers?

And I wonder if our gifts were meant for more than meets the eye. Because I have a memory of whiskers that is as fresh as the air I breathe in this moment.

For as long as I can remember, my grandpa had a beard. A Big, Soft, Bushy Beard flecked with browns and reds and silvers. I remember chasing my cousins through my grandparents’ house when a pair of arms would reach out of nowhere and engulf me, drawing me into my grandfather’s lap. I would brace myself for the attack even before the warning left his lips:

“WHISKERS!”

As his chin burrowed into my neck, my little hands would reach up to pull on his hair and shove at his face in attempt to break free. “Stop,” I would squeal through the giggles, while secretly loving every moment of our familiar game.

And that’s the memory that gives me pause. That’s the memory that makes me swallow my laughter at Steven James’ words about whiskers. Because when I look through at it that way, I can see that being a whisker in God’s Kingdom isn’t as bad as it first appears. And when I close my eyes, I can’t picture my grandfather’s hands or ears or eyelashes. But although it has been more than ten years since I’ve seen that glorious beard, I still remember the scratchy feel of Grandpa’s whiskers on my neck.

Suddenly, I’m feeling that my gifts truly matter and that there are no small roles in the intricate story God is writing through our world. But mostly, I’m realizing that whiskers aren’t useless at all. In fact, if I could choose the role I was meant to play in this story, I think I’d walk right up to the Divine Director and say:

“You know, God, I’d really love to be a whisker on Your cheek. Yes, I think I’d like to spend the rest of my life leaning down to tickle the world with Your lavish, ludicrous love.”