What does it mean to bless the Lord at all times? What does a life of constant praise look like? How do I turn towards Jesus in my desperation and not simply turn away in fear and anguish? How do I trust when the story continues to crumble my hopes and dreams? How do I raise my face? How? I just do.... Because I know Jesus is trustworthy when the story is without pain as well as when it includes devastation.
Chapter 13 is titled, Befriend the Poor and Empty-Handed. I followed Pastor Sauls on Facebook, so I wasn’t surprised by this chapter—I know of his heart for the poor and unfortunate. I love how he unpacks the truth behind Martin Luthers thought, We are all beggars, this is true, with statistics about children being born into poverty and their unlikelyhood of ever going to college simply because of the lot they’re given—their parents’ focus is on survival and finding money for the next meal, not on PSAT prep and college essays.
from an article originally published June 20, 2014...
There is such tenderness in the broken places. I feel uniquely blessed when I’m witness to the truth of the heart of another unclothed, open, vulnerable. It’s the most beautiful, most stunning in life. Sharing the tears of another is the greatest joy I have known in my life. When someone reveals a hidden shame or brokenness, I feel witness to the miracle of grace seeping into the hard cracks of living in fear and shame.
My heart is pounding in my chest. It’s a thrumming, I guess. The rhythm that tells me something is wrong. Something (or someone) is anxious. The thin film of moisture coats the sides of my eyes, but I blink and blink, not letting it loose.
I don’t wanna. A two year old lives inside me, and she does not want to do the next thing. The next thing is hard and painful. She’d rather grab her favorite toy and play in the closet among her mom’s shoes, hiding from the world.
from an article originally posted June 18, 2014...
I ran away for a minute with my boyfriend. We met friends, we attended meetings, we dinnered, lunched, breakfasted, and just enjoyed people. I struggled with energy, but I often pushed past my limits for the joy of the moment and being with friends that we rarely get to see. I cried in laughter, cried in heartbreak, and sat in silence hearing from the heart of those I love, those that are hurting themselves. A silence that is feasting on hearing from the heart of another—hearing the real story. Oh those honest moments are filled with such grace. So many of us often meet with children rumbling around. These were sacred adult moments of honesty without need to veil any words in any way to protect the young. No, these were honest, safe moments. Beautiful, beautiful moments.
