Goodbye, Alamo Place

Today, I said goodbye to a place that has meant so much to me. I'm thrilled for what God has next for our church - I really am. But it would be a lie to say it's not bittersweet.

When we first walked into The Rock of Southwest in July of 2011, I had no idea how important it would become in my life. Back then, the Cafe/Youth addition was just being finished, there were three Sunday morning services (who in the world came to church at 8:00 am?!), and we joined a Growth Group that met in an upstairs classroom during the last service. The Cafe and the Young Marrieds ministries didn't exist yet, high school group still met on Wednesday nights (instead of Tuesdays), and Bruce had a spunky intern who was also our Growth Group leader. I can hardly believe this was just five years ago! So much has changed. So much ministry has happened. So many lives have been turned more towards Christ, including mine.

Honestly, I'll always be a broken person living in the shadow of God's great grace. But because of the Rock, I'm a little less broken than I was before.

When I think about the past five and a half years in our old building, my mind is flooded with memories. Greetings at the door. Hugs and laughter in the foyer. Fighting the crowds at the children's ministry desks to grab a quick hello from some of my favorite kids. Walking down to the youth room to help lead college group. Many, many Growth Group lessons and Bible studies in the upstairs classrooms. Weddings, showers, meetings, funerals. Hours of conversations in the green room in between worship sets. Journals of prayers penned during practice. Standing on stage with the best view - a congregation worshipping the risen Christ with passion and freedom.

I know that the building isn't what makes the church. At the end of the day, it's just walls and floors and chairs. But man, that building was good to me.

Since we've come to the Rock, I've learned SO much. I've heard over 300 sermons from multiple pastors who have challenged my faith and built my character. I've learned how to worship in a new way. How to respect the deep sacrifice of the staff. How to appreciate the traditional church background I came from but embrace the environment of the Rock at the same time. How to have grace in difficult situations. How to live and love more like Jesus did.

God is so much bigger than my story, yet he's writing every letter of every word in every line. This is truly miraculous to me.

Mark and I have had so many leadership opportunities we didn't deserve. We experienced what it was like to say yes to God, even when we wanted to say no. We've heard no from God, too, even when we wanted to hear yes. We learned how to accept when a ministry is failing. We've watched godly leadership take on seemingly impossible things. We've seen so many people come to Christ. When we arrived, we'd just been married for two years. Now, we've been married for over seven. Truly, we became adults in that building on Alamo Place.

We also had fun - SO. MUCH. FUN. All-nighters, green room conversations, games, meals, retreats, and much more. In all the learning and growing and laughter and tears, we didn't just find friends. We've truly found family.

I'm simply not who I was when we first walked into the Rock. And I'm so grateful for that.

Today, after the last service, I walked through the building to say goodbye. Thankful doesn't seem like nearly a strong enough word to describe how I felt, but it's the most accurate. I'm thankful for a staff completely full of Christ-centered individuals who have sacrificed so much for me. I'm thankful for our friends who love us like family. I'm thankful for the overwhelming amount of wonderful memories. And I'm mostly thankful to Jesus Christ for being so immensely, indescribably good.

I've been a Christian since March of 2000 - almost seventeen years. Isn't it funny that we can work on something for such a long time but still have so much room to grow? We're so far along in the journey, yet so far from the final destination. Sanctification is a surreal process, sometimes. I'm excited for the journey to continue, for all that's waiting for us at the new location.

But I can already tell that when I look back on life, these years will be some of the best because of all the time we spent at Alamo Place.

So goodbye to the old. As we welcome the new, we won't forget all that God has done.

***

"Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen" (Ephesians 3:20).

"To him who is able to keep you from stumbling and to present you before his glorious presence without fault and with great joy - to the only God our Savior be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen" (Jude 24-25).

***

The last praise lyrics we sang this morning:

"You called out into darkness
You reached out to save us
You conquered the grave
You crossed the divide
Lost in our sin, you made us alive
How can we ever hold it inside?
We can't hold back

We're gonna lift you higher, higher
Hearts burning bright like a fire, fire
Voices unite - Make it louder, louder
We're never gonna stop singing!

Set free, no longer bound in chains
You rescued me, you called me by name...

Every tribe, every tongue
Every heart will sing
Every knee, we will bow
To the risen King
Lift him up, lift him up
We're never gonna stop singing!"

-Never Gonna Stop Singing, Jesus Culture

Time Stop

Most days we go through life not feeling much of anything. We think we feel things. We think we are so busy that we cannot possibly add one more thing to the list, so inundated with bad things on the news that we could scream, so stressed that one more frustrating email will cause a breakdown. And, it very well might. But our days march on.

Then there are a handful of days when our feelings are so strong that they seem to stop time.

"There's nothing left."
"There's no heartbeat."
"He didn't make it."
"Permanent."
"Terminal."
"Gone."

The second hand slows until it stops, and our entire sense of time changes. We are outside of a situation, yet so deep inside it at the same time. We are sinking into the darkest hole, yet being propelled out beyond earth's atmosphere. We're the star of a horror movie that we're watching from a distance. Weeks turn to seconds. Minutes to years. We feel so strongly that we become numb. See so clearly we become blind. Hear so precisely that everything dissolves into white noise.

A paradox, isn't it? That we could feel so much that we shut down. Like a fuse blowing from too much electricity.

And suddenly, the lists and the news and the frustrating small things in our days aren't important anymore. We can't seem to continue with the trivial, and we can't understand how anyone else is able to, either. Don't you understand what just happened? we think. Don't you understand that lists don't matter right now? And truly, we can't imagine them ever mattering again.

But gradually, they do. Thankfully, they do. Once again we fill our lists. Care what's happening on the news. Feel the stress of normal every-day-ness.

No, it's not fully the same. Sometimes, it's very different. We don't live life the same, because we are not the same. The moments that stopped time will always be marked. We will circle them on our calendars. They will be filled with tissues, and questions, and clenched fists. Our throats will ache as the marked days come, but then they will go. Eventually.

***

There are other moments with the power to stop time, too.

"It's a boy!"
"I love you."
"I'm coming home."
"She's safe."
"Will you marry me?"

And our feelings are again so strong that we are paralyzed, in a completely different way. We run from the living room to the kitchen to the backyard with our hearts in our throats, while the second hand spins so fast that we could never keep up. We mark those days too, with hearts and fireworks and champagne and extra dessert.

***

Even though the second scenarios are how we would prefer time to stop, we get a mix of both over the course of life. Unfortunately, we don't get to choose our stops and we will probably never know why our days are marked in the pattern that they are.

But, we can learn from our marked days, whether they're marked by bitterness or bliss.

We learn that lists aren't what we should live by. What happens on the news isn't nearly as important as what's happening in our home. Mourning and joy can be kindred spirits. We learn to cherish the days between the marked ones, and to feel the marked ones deeply. No matter what the feelings are.

(And always get the extra dessert.)

I know Jesus felt strongly. From seeing the excitement in miraculous healings, to watching loved ones suffer in grief, to seeing the joy of children, to being crucified, to providing our way to eternal freedom...he is no stranger to strong feelings. The creator of time himself knows what it feels like when time stands still. And he holds all the clocks in the palm of his hand.

So today, I'm honoring time stopping and all the lessons that it teaches us, even if it's never what we would have chosen. Both the broken and the beautiful. So often they end up being the same.

***

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.
What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end" (Ecclesiastes 3:1-11).

Weeds

Today, I started clearing our garden to prepare for planting. We didn't plant last year and it's already June, so the weeds are as high as my knees. I only finished about a fourth of that job. My back hurts already, and I'm still a long way from actually being able to plant things. After the clearing, we'll have to till the soil, buy new topsoil, pick out our plants, and, finally, put them in their new homes. I wish I could have started this process a month ago, but we've been out of the country for two weeks. If I'd planted anything before we left, it would have died while we were gone. Summer weather came late, too, so there wasn't really an opportunity to prepare anything before now.

I can't believe summer is already here again. It seems like 2016 just started, and it's already halfway over.

Summer always brings intense emotions for me, all across the spectrum. Grief, loneliness, contentment, joy. Grief from wishing I could be at camp. Loneliness from long days spent at home, trying to create something worthwhile. Contentment from more time with Bandit, Mark, and Jesus. Joy from making memories that can only be made in the summer - sprinklers, lawn mowers, traveling, late sunsets.

I've wanted to "be a writer" since I was eight years old, yet I still haven't created anything that I'm especially proud of. It would be a lie to say I've written nothing of value, because I know I have. But I'm still so far from creating the big stories that live in my dreams. I'm on the edge of changing that, though.

So we begin again. Another summer is here, but this is the summer of dreams becoming reality. I'm trusting in Jesus to pull me through, because I know I can't do it on my own. Honestly, there's very little in me that thinks I can actually accomplish this right now. I'm not feeling particularly capable. Or disciplined. Or focused. Or brave.

But I learned in college and therapy and books to take things one challenge at a time. So, that is what I will do. I will write, even if all I accomplish in one sitting is a fourth of the weeding. I won't get lost in the giant scheme of it all. I'll just focus on pulling one weed at a time.

The Cup of Loss

Today, I saw some awful things.

Tear-soaked kleenexes littering both the front and back yards of our high school/college pastor's house. Long, silent hugs. Heads buried in laps, sobbing. Screams of agony. Red, swollen eyes staring into the distance at nothing. Silence, from disbelief. Silence, from not knowing what to say. Silence, from refusing to accept. Silence, from realizing there's no other choice.

I can't count the times today that I've told God no. No, no, no. This is not the plan. It can't be the plan. We didn't sign up for this, and we don't want this, and how could you do this to us? Take it back. When we said we would follow you, we didn't know you would lead us to this. Surely there was another way. Can't you see that this is breaking us in a billion ways? Our hearts are ripped out, and this is a mess. You say you are good, but this does not feel like it's good.

In the early evening, Mark and I received desperate calls to come to our high school/college pastor's house. One of our college students had been in a fatal motorcycle accident. As we rushed over, all I could think was, This is not happening.

We are feeling and seeing so much pain. Confusion. Grief. Feeling lost. So so so lost. Why is this happening to the community that is so precious to me? This can't be the plan. Aren't you supposed to protect us, Jesus?

We sat in front of a campfire and shared memories and prayed and poured out our hearts in worship to Jesus. But I was conflicted. My head said I should worship because Jesus is good beyond any circumstance but my heart said NO I will not accept this cup.

Which is exactly why I made myself worship anyway.

Today I learned that what glorifies God the most is not necessarily what brings the least pain. This doesn't make sense to us while we are in the pain. But it's because the glory isn't about me. The glory wasn't about Josh. The glory is about Jesus.

Before Jesus died on the cross, he broke bread with his closest friends and gave thanks. He knew what was coming. He felt the weight of the upcoming betrayal, the promise of the excruciating pain he would endure as he took on our depravity, the dread of his father turning his face away. Yet Jesus gave thanks. He didn't want the cup, but he took it anyway.

So we take this one.

I felt and saw a lot of awful things today, and will for days to come. But I also saw some glimpses of good. A community of broken people coming together. An open home and food provided. Praises lifted to a God we know to be sovereign even when his plan doesn't make sense to us. 

My heart is broken and we are still reeling in pain. But I am thankful. For my loved ones. For our incredible church community. For the opportunity to have known and loved such a humble, selfless man after God's own heart. For a God who embraces me when all I can do is scream in pain at him.

I am able to be thankful because Jesus was thankful before me.

In this pain, I give thanks. In this confusion, I cling to our heavenly promise. In this darkness, I give praise to the one who will conquer it.

It's what Josh would have done, too.

Summer Thoughts

Time is such a weird thing. It goes by SO fast. All of the sudden, another month is gone. Another year. Five years. Is anyone as baffled by this as I am? Probably everyone is. Or no one is. These things are hard to know.

This summer has been weird in a lot of ways. And hard. Lots and lots and lots of alone time. Broken relationships. Sadness. Lots of studying. I had surgery. And I'm writing a book.

Writing a book is HARD. And strange. Some days you feel like a rockstar. Some days you're so sure of things. The story is awesome, the characters are awesome, and you are awesome. Invincible, really. Then there are the other days. (Most of the days.) Things are disjointed, and putting words on the page feels like pulling teeth. I know that's cliche, but that really is what it's like. It take all the concentration in the world just to write a paragraph. (A really really really sucky paragraph, too.) How am I supposed to write a book that way?!

The only consolation is that in most books on writing that I've read, even successful writers feel the same. Writing is not some glamorous life of inspiration. I thought it was that for a long time. If you'd asked me, I would have denied it. Oh no, I would have said. I know writing is really hard work, and if you only write when you're inspired, you're never going to accomplish anything. Deep down, though, I thought I was an exception. Newsflash to me: I'm not.

Surgery was also extremely HARD. I'm still recovering and will be for another few weeks. I wasn't expecting to have a difficult recovery time, so that has been frustrating and sad. I had been in unexplained pain for a long time though, so hopefully this will be the solution. I'm believing that.

I learned a lot about God this summer. Isn't he so awesome that way? There's always more to learn, more to discover. He really is infinite.

I've learned lessons about loneliness. Waiting. Emptiness.

Those aren't really the fun things to learn about. God has really fun things about him, like joy, and celebration, and dancing. He has really powerful things about him, too, like salvation, and deliverance, and victory. I think I, like anyone, would rather learn about any of those things than the things I had to learn this summer.

Summer is always an extremely difficult time for me because there's nothing more that I love on this earth than camp, and I can't be there anymore. It's so emotional for me that it's even hard to type out on a blog that no one will read but me. For eleven years, I lived and breathed for camp. I started a count down the second I left the property every summer. Seriously, I have vivid memories of counting the days on the eight hour car ride back home. I begged my parents to spend more time there year after year. I made memory boxes and collages and wrote to all of my friends about how camp was my true home, and how I couldn't wait to be back with them. I told Jesus the same thing. Every. Single. Day. I still feel more at home there than anywhere.

But that's very painful to me now, because I can't be there. I'm too old, and I'm married, and I'm supposed to live in Colorado. So now I fill my days with dreams of building my own camp here. I really do believe God has that for my future, because I have BEGGED him to take that dream away from me if it's not from him. But where does that leave me today? Before that dream is a reality, and while I have no time frame for it coming to fruition?

A lot of days, it leaves me feeling horribly sad and lost. But God taught me that's not what he has for me. I love camp so much because I feel closer to God there than anywhere else. I feel more accepted, more loved, more secure, more of everything good.

But God doesn't work like that. He doesn't change from one place to the next. Yes, he reveals himself in different ways at different times, and sometimes he feels far away. But he is the same God here at my house in Colorado as he is at any camp, retreat center, or mountain top. Worshiping him differently in this hard season is not being the faithful servant he's called me to be. Emptiness is uncomfortable. But I'm learning to praise God in it anyway. So often, all we can think of is how we can't wait to feel full again, how we would do anything to move from the state we're in to a better one. But that's not what we should be longing for. The solution isn't to feel full again. It's not a feeling. It's not a future time that will be better than the current one. It's Christ himself. He lives and breathes in the brokenness just as he lives and breathes in the wholeness.

There are still so many things about God I don't understand, and so many things that I never will until we're in heaven. I know he doesn't want us to be broken and that restoration is a huge part of his purpose. But I also know that he doesn't promise restoration to look or feel a certain way, and he breaks with us. I know that because I experience it.

Hopefully there's a time coming soon where I won't be so empty, or confused, or lost. But God is with me and he's as powerful as he's ever been and that's not going to change. Hallelujah for that.

This summer has been an awesome one for discovering new songs. (PRAISE! I LOVE NEW MUSIC.) Here are some lyrics I've found:

"come out of hiding, you're safe here with me

there's no need to cover what i already see

you've got your reasons, but i hold your peace

you've been on lockdown, and i hold the key

'cause i loved you before you knew it was love

and i saw it all, still i chose the cross"
(steffany gretzinger, out of hiding)

"the tune resonates in the open space
to show us how emptiness sings
glory to God, glory to God!
in fullness of wisdom
he writes my story into his song
my life for the glory of God"
(christa wells, how emptiness sings)

And some inspiration from middle and high school:

"i'd like to go by climbing a birch tree,
and climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
but dipped its top and set me down again.
that would be good both going and coming back.
one could do worse than be a swinger of birches."
(robert frost, birches)

"i know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
when his wing is bruised and his bosom sore, -
when he beats his bars and he would be free;
it is not a carol of joy or glee,
but a prayer that he sends from his heart's deep core,
but a plea, that upward to heaven he flings -
i know why the caged bird sings!"
(paul laurence dunbar, sympathy)

Random Thoughts Late at Night

It's been almost 4 YEARS since I've posted on this blog, and that is mind boggling to me.

It's late at night, and all I can really think about is how the creative never meets reality, and how to deal with the juxtaposition of these worlds.

January is a time for new beginnings, but there are too many things that I need to begin again. Working out, eating right, cleaning, quiet times, writing, blogging, lalalala the list is endless.

I don't even like the layout of this blog anymore, which is sad.

I know all these sentences are monotone, but I just don't care right now. Sometimes I wish I could just hole myself up and write an awesome series of novels for a few years. But I hate blank word documents, and I can't figure out how to make an epic story without it sounding too much like Harry Potter. The struggle is real. JK Rowling, can we switch lives?

Thanks.

he is good.

"you are good, you are good
when there's nothing good in me"
(hillsong)


Music is my life, pretty much. So, I've decided to write some posts and expand on lyrics that I love.

Above is the beginning of the song "Forever Reign" by Hillsong. It's been on repeat for weeks now. I think I'm going to parse out the lyrics over the next few days.

As I get older, I'm realizing the extremely little amount of good that's inside of me. God is always perfect and good, even when I am SO blatantly not. I am realizing how sinful I am. But I'm also realizing that within that sin, God finds his victory.

I am flawed. Evil. A murderer of dreams. Impatient. Ugly. Harsh. Lonely. Lazy. Selfish. So, so, so selfish.

And the world is sad. There are more homeless people than my brain can begin to fathom. There are deformed babies. Cancer. Earthquakes. Abuse. Addicts. Prisoners who need to be set free.

Yet even in all of that, God is good.

Wait - what?

Sometimes (most of the time), this truth doesn't make sense. Not even CLOSE! But God doesn't promise to make sense. He promises healing, peace, comfort, grace, and insane, unending love (among many other things) - but never that everything will make perfect sense. I am so glad of this. If I could understand everything about God, well, he wouldn't be God.

So no matter the circumstances, HE. IS. GOOD.

"taste and see that the Lord is good" (psalm 34:8)
"give thanks to the Lord, for he is good" (psalm 136:1)
"how much more will your heavenly Father give good things?" (matthew 7:11)
"in all things God works for the good" (romans 8:28)
"God saw that it was good" (genesis 1, all the way through)