Heart and Intentions

Now I am hidden in the safety of your love
I trust your heart and your intentions
Trust you completely, I'm listening intently
You'll guide me through these many shadows

When I was little, I would get angry at the silliest things. I got into a fight with my sister once because she tried to tell me that Easter was more important than Christmas (how dare she).  I also got 'fabulously' angry that the holiday we are celebrating today was called Good Friday. They hurt MY Jesus, and they called it GOOD Friday. That's the childlike faith I wish I still had sometimes. 

But it is good. 

This song that I posted above has been wrecking the crap out of me since I heard it first, helping me to declare and believe the things that I am afraid of. 

Because we all know that we trust God in theory; we are well aware that He holds the sun, moon, and stars in the palm of His hand. He makes all things work together, and He knows the plans he has for us, and something about not leaning on your own understanding. But we don't really trust him. Sometimes we get away with it because we don't learn on our own understanding. We just lean on mistrust because we're afraid to be wrong, get hurt, or become uncomfortable. 

When we don't trust someone, it is because they aren't worthy of our trust. Their intentions are questionable, their heart may be geared only to them, and under their wing, we know there is no future, no shelter, and no rest. When we trust someone, we trust their heart, their intentions, and the way they value us. 

This past season has been tough for me, despite the amount of times you may have seen me laughing. It's been one where I've been broken in half to be only put back together by Him. It's been a season where I just figured that if I asked with TONS of faith, I would get everything I wanted, and I have had to learn that the idea was great, but the execution only told God, "I'm making my own plans, I just need to you make sure it all works together. Then I will trust you." 

And while I thought about all of the theological lessons I would learn from it, I could hear God so faintly, so sweetly, asking me, "But don't you trust me yet?" 

"Of course I do, Lord! I gave you my life and I know you 'know the plans that you have for me' so yes, I trust you." 

"Jackie, do you simply know that you NEED to trust me? Or do you actually trust me?"

Ouch. 

When I think about Good Friday, I think about a good, good father. A father with only the right intentions. A father with a heart as big as the moon. I think about the fact that He has dreams for us that don't even measure up to the insane dreams that we had when we were but children. 

I think about the fact that he knew we needed saving that took dying for, but that wasn't the point. 

He didn't send the perfect sacrifice; He became it. 

Talk about intentions. Talk about someone we can trust with our future. With our today.

Today was the day, that many years ago in history, that Jesus said, "I don't want to just heal them. I don't want to just love them. I want to save them. I will die for them."

Good, good Friday. 

When someone thinks you're worth dying for, it's time to trust their intentions. And I want to say that the greatest joy in life is knowing Him, but my mind is so finite to who He is. The greatest joy in life is being known by Him. By my dad. By my dad with good heart and good intentions.

So here I am. It's Good Friday and I am about to go shopping because I have procrastinated my Easter outfit, watching a friend do homework and wondering why there are people out there who don't know Him. And I guess I have come to realize that they don't see what's so good about it. Maybe they can't see the good in Him, the good heart and intentions in Him. Maybe it's because people are so hard to trust. Not without a price, anyway.

"He didn't HAVE to die for me."

But He wanted to.

"But I don't even know Him."

But He knows you.

"I'm not a good person. He's probably mad at me."

No, He's not mad at you, He's mad about you. 

No price. No contract. No fine print. 

Just good heart, just good intentions.

Good Friday. 

Little Girl, Get Up

We are often told in medical situations, where there is life, there is hope. 

In what seems like a hopeless medical issue, doctors say time and time again, "The odds may not look good, but where there is life, there is hope." If someone is in a state where they may not walk again after a brutal accident, doctors will say that because there is life there is hope. Even if someone is in a coma, but there is brain activity, you'll hear them assure the loved ones of their patients -- "Where there is life, there is hope." 

I've heard this outside of medical situations, too. Maybe because I don't have many friends in the medical field. In everyday living, where there is life, there is hope. Everyday is a brand new day, we're told. So there is hope for change, hope for improvement. Who knows what life will be like! 

I think these things are great. I think it is so necessary to put that in perspective for someone who may just need to look on the bright side and see the hope through it all. But what if there is no life? What if there is loss? What if there is hurt? How am I supposed to feel? Where is my encouragement?

I want to counter that idea and tell you that where there is death, there is hope, too. 
We seem to think that because there is life where there is hope, when there is no life, there is no hope. I know I've been there. Situations look so alive, so bursting with energy, life is going great and something unexpected happens in the next moment and the happiness fades away without asking to be excused. 

Suddenly, the brain activity is out the window and you are flatlining just seconds later. And we do everything we can to revive it, to resuscitate it. We do everything in our power and it is still not enough. Where could the hope possibly be in that?

I can't be the only one who has found themselves making their bed in hell without a choice in the matter. I can't be the only one that has no say in the things that took "hope" from me. Things go wrong. "Death" comes our way, both actual and poetic.

A man in the Bible had that moment. His life came to a screeching halt. Jairus was a man of status, a man of influence. But he quickly learned that when it came to life, death, and the things he loved, status was not tangible. And above all, status was not a source of hope. He had heard through the grapevine that there was this man, a rabbi, that was completely out of the ordinary. See, other rabbis would just pray and recite scripture. But this guy, He was something else. This Jesus was so different that there were actually rumors of death threats going on about Him. However, no one could deny that He was a miracle maker. What that man of status needed was in fact a miracle. 

Jairus had no other option. 

The one thing we know status and influence can't buy is family. And the someone he loved, his daughter, was sick. Very sick. 

What choice did he have? 

He did everything in his power to get to Jesus -- the only option he had left. And Jesus agreed to go heal her. At last! A bit of hope restored. A breath of relief. But  before Jesus could get to his daughter, they got the news that she had passed. The bearers of bad news actually said, "Why bother the teacher anymore?" (Mark 5:35b)

Where there is life, there is hope. And hope was surely gone. 

Don't act like you've never been there. When Jesus tells you to pray for someone to come to church, we think that situation's too dead for God. Or sometimes we have prayers that we think are too big. That dream in your heart that God has been reminding you about? Oh yeah, I remember... but that one died a long time ago. Best not bother the teacher. It's dead anyway.

But they didn't know Jesus. They had no idea what they were in for. Do you? 

Do you know the Jesus that wants your interruption? 

He went to the house, finding a dead, sweet girl. A house where the hope had fled with the girl's last breath. He told them that there would be hope again, but they just laughed. Jesus, didn't you hear? This situation is dead. Hope left a long time ago. Jesus, haven't you heard that there is no life to be found? 

But Jesus always sees the potential in dead things. 

He kicked them out of the room and began His work. 

He sat by her and said, "Little girl, get up." Apparently, that was all the situation needed. She got up and walked around, shocking everyone.

The only reason that there is hope in death is because death to Jesus is comparable to a hiccup for us: nothing. When we step out of the way and He steps in the way, He brings hope with Him. Too often we think a situation is too dead for Jesus. When He shows up in our dead circumstances, we don't need to apologize for the death, we don't need to bargain with Him. We don't need to cry about it or feel like we're bothering Him. When He shows up, all we need to do is point to the dead thing and step out of the way. 

If you really knew Him, wouldn't you know Him enough to know and believe that there is hope because He stepped into the room, and that alone is enough?

This isn't just a New Testament theme. I think often about how much of the New Testament actually relates to the exodus of the Israelites out of Egypt into the Promised Land. But we often miss so much about the dead things coming to life because we're only looking at the story we want to see. The Bible doesn't say much about what packing and gathering and getting their affairs together, whatever that may look like in that time in history. But we know a few things: Pharaoh chased them. God showed up. He split the sea. Then He closed it back up.

In the next chapter, Exodus 15, we're led into a song of triumph with the Israelites. Something the Bible never tells us is how much courage it must have taken to take out their instruments and dust them off. There's an old horn in this bag. In that bag over there, it's an old lyre passed down with hope from a grandfather. Oh, those drums... They hadn't seen those in ages. They never had a chance to play in Egypt, or a reason. Freedom, singing out in it to the Lord with all they had -- it was just a dead dream. How could we sing our songs of hope when there is no hope? But God showed up. All they had to do was point to the dead thing, dust off their instruments, and watch Him restore hope where it once seemed lost. 

"Little girl, get up." 

Little girl, dirt is no place for you to rest on your hands and knees.

"Little girl, get up."

Little girl, brush it off. 

"Little girl, get up."

Little girl, the veil is torn. Why are you so distant?

I've had times in my life where something just seemed too dead, even for Jesus. There was a lot of frustration. A lot of "God, where were you? Where are you?" A lot of tears, and if anyone knows me, they know I hate showing weakness.  But when I was at my worst, Jesus showed up, and I did the only thing I had energy to do -- point to the dead thing and say, "Help."

Little girl, get up.

The words that restored hope into that house.

The words that returned life into a paling corpse.

The words my Savior tells me in every moment of my weakness. 

Little girl, get up.

Just like that. The King was at it again. Actually, the King is always at it. God, as we may know, is a God of restoration. What some may not know, or forget at times, is that He is also very kind.

So maybe things look dead. But Jesus does not see things the way we do. When things look hopeless, let's not call it as we see it. Let's call it as He sees it: Just sleeping.

Confessions of a Prodigal: After Running

Warning. This is raw.

I'm tired.

A month doesn't seem like a long time, but it is.

I'm tired, and I'm out of breath.

I've been running. Running is the term Christians refuse to use -- We were "just going through some things" and "in a weird season" and "feeling out of it." Running. We run. I ran. Weird, for the church girl. Weird, for the girl who serves every week. She's always smiling...weird. But I ran.

See, a month doesn't seem like a long time, but when you're running away from your lifeline, more than a day is a long time.

The truth is, after running you realize the things that kept your feet moving forward, away from everything you’ve ever loved are nothing but smoke and mirrors — more temporaries in a world of temporaries. 

Why did I run? I thought I was running because I was tired, but I was only tired because I ran so long without realizing I was running (in a weird season, you know?). I was afraid. Am. I am afraid. Afraid of failure. Afraid of the future. Afraid to let down my Father. So I ran.

Why do any of us run? Life disappoints us. People break our hearts. The future seems too big. Life seems too busy. We get used to God. Whatever it is, we run. 

Now I'm just tired. And far off. But His patience with me is amazing. Every step back toward God, I have stumbled. But not unlike the prodigal son, I was welcomed with a run back, an embrace. 

The truth is, He brought me to the end of myself so I could rediscover the vastness of Him.

I spent a nasty amount of time getting before God and doing the Christian thing... "Lord, if there is anything in me that offends you..." and while I think that's beyond important, often that's the what we use to cushion the fear of coming home after running. We all know, deep down, that if we treated people the way we treated God, they would never speak to us.

And we forget that God is not intimidated by our stuff. He's just waiting for us to turn on our heels and realize we've never stopped being His kids.

Rabbit trail. Anyway.

I did the Christian thing, then when that didn't work I asked God to heal my heart. Nothing. "Lord I just wanna feel you. Like I wanna see you." Nothing.

Then, out of the silence, I heard a whisper in my heart.

"Stop asking me to heal your heart and learn to come to Me with your heart broken."

Ouch.

So here is my confession of a prodigal daughter, after running.

All You wanted was a broken spirit, a broken and contrite heart, and here it is. What I did was push You away. I pushed you so far away because I DON'T KNOW that's what I do. But it was so far that it did nothing hurt me and it hurt You. There's a part of me that want's to ask if we can work toward becoming Father and daughter again, but that is such prodigal thinking because You’re already running to Me. I think You were just waiting for me to come to You at my worst so I could learn that I can. Motions were never enough for You... You want my heart, broken as it may be. I missed You.

My chest hurts. My heart hurts. I can't tell if it's undealt hurt or I'm just short of breath. My head hurts thinking about how much I feel like I have to earn Your love, and pounds a little more out of confusion every time you tell me that I don't have to earn Your love. I tell You I know too much about myself to think I could receive that love. You tell me Your love surpasses all the things I know. Pound. Pound.

I’m sorry that I took my heartbreak on life out on You. I’m sorry that I pulled myself from You when You should have been My source of comfort, because You always are. But Your patience amazes me constantly as I wander away from you yet no matter how far I’ve been you wait for the moment that I turn back so you know when to start running to me. 

I don’t know how people are so afraid of You, so terrified of You. They must not know You. They must have some vague idea of who You are based on the little they've heard. But You are more than that. You’re a real loving Father. 

Now being back, I realize there's nothing I want more than to always have my head on Your chest. 

You waited for me. You waited for me for what may have seemed like forever for you. I know because it seemed like forever for me to be away from the one I love. It may not seem like a long time to some, but to me, without you, that was forever. 

Just seconds away from giving up, You give me your words. Oh my heart could jump for joy inside my chest. I have no idea what else to say except you make a prodigal daughter feel right at home. Every time. 

Why I'm Not Supposed To Do Anything

Hey all!
All my posts have to do with reflecting some Biblical truth and while it may not seem like it, this is one of those posts, as well. I want to talk about something that has been haunting me for longer than I would like to remember. 

I am not supposed to do anything.
Let me start by saying that I am not implying that I am supposed to do nothing. But I'm not "supposed" to do anything. 
I am not supposed to do anything. 

Here's some background information before I lose you:
I was born with a rebel heart. I don't mean "gas station St. Jimmy" kind of rebel that people are afraid of. But I've always been free, always been different. And that's okay with me. I've always liked the things that people never found pleasing and done the things that were 5 miles east of the nearest comfort zone.

So the things that you're supposed to do and that I am supposed to do are going to look very different. You can imagine how weird it was for me to begin to hear that I was or wasn't supposed to be doing things.

When I was 12 I started telling people that I wanted to write books for a living. But I was supposed to be a doctor or lawyer. When I decided that instead I wanted to be a neuropsychologist, I was supposed to find something a little more in my reach. 

When I was 16 I decided to drop out of high school and get a diploma equivalent, I was told that it wasn't supposed  to be done that way.

When I was 18 I shaved half my head because I wanted my hair to match my different personality, but I was told that I was supposed to grow it back immediately because it isn't ladylike. This happened again when I was 20 and got a pixie cut. Women were supposed to have long, thick hair because girls with short hair are damaged. 

When I would shop in the men's section of Forever 21 because I like baggy flannels, I was told I wasn't supposed to be a tomboy. Men don't like that. 

When I turned 21 I got my arm tattooed wrist to shoulder. I wasn't supposed to do that, though, because people would judge me, as if the people who said this weren't oozing judgement already.  

When I wear all black and have a giant afro, which is all the time, I'm supposed to try to look more appropriate because I am supposed to be looking for a husband. 

Even after giving my life to Jesus I felt it so hard to find freedom because I thought that what I needed was to be free from myself, who I've always been by nature. When the world is so loud about what I’m supposed to do, when I’m supposed to do it, and how I’m supposed to do it, sometimes I forget who I actually am.

And to be honest, I’ve always preferred lumpy, misshapen cookies to cookie-cutter ones. And I think that we are so used to saying, "We don't want to be cookie-cutter Christians!" like robots, we have no idea that we're expecting people to be cookie-cutter people. 

But even when I forget who I am in the midst of what I’m “supposed to do”  Jesus is always so good at reminding me.

Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you. 

Before you were born, I set you apart for my holy purpose.

Jeremiah 1:5

I think if Jesus wanted people to be exactly the same, and think exactly the same, and do things the exact same way, he wouldn’t have made distinct fingerprints.

So, I am so, so sorry. But I'm not a big fan of what I am supposed to do unless it’s from Jesus.

I think breakfast foods should always be eaten after 6 PM

I think the way Jesus loves us is absolute, unexplainable nonsense

I think that sandwiches taste better when they are cut diagonally instead of down the middle

I think my car is better messy

I think my hair is better frizzy

I think I look way better always wearing black

I think I would prefer that a boy falls in love with me based on how much I love Jesus

I think crossing my legs makes me look as uncomfortable as I feel

I think telling a story properly and doing brain surgery are equally difficult

I think it is by the grace of God I am what I am even if it’s not perfect

I think if I had to choose between being myself and being a lady, I would choose myself

And while I think I’m childish and childlike, I know I’m not immature. I know that I have so much to learn, too much to learn to say that there is a right way to do anything.

I know the people who tell me these things aren't trying to hurt me in any way. They're people, and they are doing their best. 

They want me to be ready, but truthfully ready has never been my agenda. I think ready is for people who want to live small lives. 

I never want to be ready for anything. I am prepared, though. I have Jesus. Because of that, I am prepared to face anything that I was never ready for. And because of that I am under absolutely no obligation to be ready for anything. To be ready for something means that you’re perfect in it. I’m covered in tattoos head to toe and I would wear combat boots to my own wedding. I hardly think that’s considered a perfect personality.

My heart is way too big for ready and supposed to. There is too much trouble to get myself into and too much adventure for God to lead me into to waste my time being ready. I'd rather just be available, just as I am.

I am not saying that I don't want to do things the right way. I just want to do things God's way for me, which, by His grace, is going to look so different from yours. And that's the beauty of it. 

So if you see me at my wedding with combat boots, just smile and be happy for me. And if I see you doing things the way you've always known, I'll smile and be happy for you. And if we see someone doing things in a way we've never imagined, we can smile and be happy for them.

And Jesus will be happy with all of us.

God bless you all! Love you all more than you know.