send me

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Mt. Hood flying into Portland

I trust in your faithfulness to give me a life as I let you take away mine because I know that there are people who need my voice more than I do; who need my hands and feet more than I do; who need my time and my strength more than I do. so I ask for the grace to let my purpose of bringing glory to you be fulfilled wherever they are. and as I journey there, I pray for peeks of mountain tops through the clouds.

he speaks

What a beautiful wonder it is that God doesn’t just speak to us by simply writing on a stone tablet anymore. He uses things of Himself- poetry, music, art, dance- creative things, to speak to us. We get to experience God through the miraculous things He has created. And last night, when I picked up a paint brush for the first time in ages, I laughed as I got frustrated that my strokes were uneven and my colors weren’t mixing, but He chose to breathe on my art anyways. But that’s what He’s done with my life, isn’t it? My disheveled hands are all over it, making a mess of things, and yet He breathes on it and reveals Himself through me anyways.


Remember how Jesus takes the small amount of bread loaves and fish to feed and satisfy thousands of people?

He does the exact same thing with the little things we lay at His feet. A slice of pie? A cup of coffee? A spontaneous visit to the florist? Every single time.

Every moment of our lives are just little offerings. Our moments are to us what the bread and fish were to that fisherman. We need to go to the Lord and offer him our little moments and expect him to feed thousands, including us.

twenty-seventh of april two thousand fifteen

I find myself in the same place most days. I’m fighting for energy, choking on recycled air. I find my efforts lacking like those I have buried grudges against, six feet under, for their absence, and yet, I’m absent- the least of these, I am she.

And as easy as it would be to let this psalm end, I want to fight like David.
So I cry “forsake me not when my strength is spent” and I hope continually, and I will praise you more yet, never stopping to count my aches, only to count the ways you love me because you are good. Your very essence is good, and you don’t withhold from me. My God, with you, I lack no good thing.

falling into choice


He’s been teaching me that dependency is humble. It’s the honesty that cries out “Oh God, my spirit is willing, but my flesh is weak. Come be the good within me.” It’s being aware of our humanity, and our desperate need of everything greater than ourselves. It’s a choice that one day- when we stand before grandeur with wonder instead of fear or frustration- we will realize we’ve fallen into choosing. It happens unexpectedly. Dependency is a paradoxical way to put someone before yourself. It’s casting aside our own fear of being known, laying our vulnerable heart before someone, and giving them the power to impact us. Most of the time, I think we’re surprised when we find ourselves being dependent because we figure out it’s not as bad as we are trained to believe. Dependency is recognizing our limits and letting ourselves be fiercely & limitlessly loved.