Faith ReMix.

My friend asked me to write a blog on fear to follow up after my thoughts on shame.  Well, I decided to do something even better than write about fear. I decided to write about faith.

Yes, faith. It's such a controversial topic really. Faith? Controversial? Yes. The definition of faith has definitely warred in my soul. Hasn't it warred in yours?

I think for many of us, fear and faith have been the exact same thing. We have "faith", but it's fear based--it's performance based.  It's the kind of "faith" a lot of us have been taught...unfortunately.  It's the kind that strikes up a little kick in the tush that says "If you want to see God come through the way you hope, you better do enough, pray enough, fast enough, obey enough, please God enough...enough...enough...enough." It causes us to push and grunt and strain and "contend" for something He's-already-done.

Ohhhhh boy.

You mean conjuring up faith isn't really faith at all?

Nope.

It's fear.

I tell you this because boy oh boy have I had it backwards a time or two (or twenty).  And boy oh boy am I watching a lot of people ask for a hernia.  Who voluntarily asks for a hernia? Nobody.

Nobody in her right mind anyway.

So, that's why I started thinking differently. I was tired. Exhausted. Desperate. Didn't even have the least bit of energy to conjur up anything (except a bad attitude--because all that contending made me irritated).  Not to mention, it was getting me nowhere. Except for running around in circles. It definitely got me there.

And so...it was at the point of my desperation where God gently said "Hey Sarah--whatcha doing?"

(When God asks you a question like this, you can be pretty sure that He already knows the answer. It's kind of like: "Adam? Where are you? Hiding in the Garden because you're naked?")

It wasn't until I heard Him ask me this question that I realized how crazy I was.  Albert Einstein said that the definition of Insanity is "doing the same thing over and over again but expecting different results." Guilty as charged.

So then He said, "Ok. Good. Now that we've got that squared away, how's about we move forward?"

"Yes, please."

And that's when it all changed.

He started pulling me out of this activity and that activity.  He started giving me some space to be alone with all my idiosyncracies and weaknesses and seemingly shortcomings. He asked me to start getting comfortable with my creativity so I could productively release all those excess emotions. And then, when I wasn't distracted by this person asking me to do this and that person asking me to do that and myself asking myself to do x and y and z-----I started to hear His voice.  And you know what He said?


"I love you just the way you are. And you know what? You're so awesome."

Enter Faith from Stage Left.

There's something about when the God of the Universe says "I see you" that is overwhelmingly accepting and believable. No need to conjur up anything.  At this point, it's a miracle if you can still stand up.

And then you know what?

Everything else shifts.


Mountains move. Hearts get healed. Disease disappears. Love Reigns.


And from that moment on, you don't even remember what you were praying for or trying to conjur up in the moment.  You're too busy being overflowed with ecstacy. And joy.

And you're looking for the next person to unleash it on.

"Who wants some of this? I'm giving out free stuff!"

And person after person starts knocking on your door. This is favor.  This is God.

This is the Kingdom He's always talking about.  Upside down.  He comes to the brokenhearted and the crippled first. Those who are desperate.  Hungry for love.

The Mary Magdalene's. The prostitutes and tax collectors.

He's not interested in performing for Pharisees. He likes hanging out with the ones who know they ain't got it all together. In fact, they have nothing together. That's why they need a God.

That's why they need a cross--because no one can fulfill the 10 Commandments on her own.  We might as well let Jesus do it--and then just receive what He's done.  It will make obeying them a lot easier--because we won't even be thinking twice about it.  We'll be too caught up in the joy of His eyes.


Drunk on Love.

There's a reason His first miracle was turning water into wine.  Because Jesus, contrary to public belief, knows a good party.  He's all about weddings.  And celebration. He's all about Covenant.


(He doesn't do prenuptial agreements--because He's not thinking about divorcing anyone.)


He's busy getting ready to see His bride.  That's what the Bible says.  And I believe it. Because I've been looking into those Eyes. Those piercing eyes.  They are just as desperate for me to understand as I have been desperate to know.  It's all been on purpose.

To get me here. Faith.

Faith erases fear. Eradicates fear. Fear isn't even worth talking about.....

because He's got other plans.

Good ones. Plans of peace and not of evil, plans to prosper me and to give me a future and a hope. (Jer. 29:11)

Heaven on Earth. Heaven in the Now.

Happy Father's Day, Abba. Today, we celebrate You. You're the best Dad I know.

Shame....shame...I know you're name...

And I'm not scared of you.

I've been thinking about the topic of "shame" quite a bit the last few weeks.  You know shame, right? It likes to creep its way into almost any experience for any woman.  It's more clingy than Saran Wrap coming out of the roll and more suffocating than most other types of fear combined.  It can almost be described as an umbrella to the lies of the enemy.  It tries to carefully and cleverly package anything creative or vulnerable or valuable that could be attempting to be birthed within us.  After it ties a ribbon (or gag) so tightly around the gift inside, you can rarely get it open without scissors.  And what fun is a present that you can't get open?

Not much fun at all.

I've noticed in my few short years of living in "recovery" (AKA "truly believing how God feels about me") that shame just can't wait to rear its ugly head when something really good is about to happen--when God is about to flood my heart like a river. Because you know shame's main purpose? To scare me out of receiving Him.  It wants to keep me held back from freedom.  Most of the endeavors in my life that have turned out to be the most fruitful and satisfying were completely wrapped in shame before God so graciously helped me start to birth them.  Shame did its best to steal not only my identity, but also my gifts, by asking me questions that sounded like...

"Who do you think you are?"

"Do you really think you can do that?"

"What makes you so special?"

Or it flat out lied to me like...

"You're not enough."

"You're too much."

"Just be quiet."

"I can't believe you said that, did that, danced that, wrote that, etc."

And let's not forget the ever so clever "Your dreams won't come true. Your situation will never change. Don't bother." Hopelessness, Party of One, your table is ready.

For women, it also likes to force its way into friendships.  It keeps us from sharing our hearts, our emotions, our true feelings, our real life stories. It keeps us isolated from one another.  It keeps us quiet.  It's easier to say nothing at all and be miserable inside--than to say something and possibly be rejected.  Or so shame says. It's partner in crime is often Comparison.  And one of my favorite reminders about comparison is this:

"Comparison is the thief of Joy." -Theodore Roosevelt

Once I start comparing myself to another woman, the door has been opened for shame to take a seat.  And then it starts in with accusations like: "Wow, you're not as smart, confident, pretty, talented, etc. as her. Perhaps you should just back it up, sister." It's gagging that gift again.

What I've found most successful in my battle against shame has actually been walking through the desert. In Hosea 2:14, God says "But then I will win her back once again. I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her there." During this desert time(s), my spirit has been desperate for a drink of water.  I decided that if I didn't start taking some creative risks or relational risks that I was going to die inside.  In fact, I was already dying inside--because I didn't know who I was in Him.  As I so fragilely opened myself up to the vulnerability of God, I was transformed. As I moved toward the things that I wanted the most and also feared the most, I came alive.  If it was a creative endeavor, I decided to stop thinking about it and actually try it.  If it was a relationship, I asked that person to get coffee.  I decided that I wasn't going to let shame stop me from living, and so I went out on a limb first.  No matter how small or insignificant it seemed. The desert saved my life; desperation saved my life.

What became of those small steps of faith are deep and lasting friendships, joy, dreams fulfilled, and most importantly--strong pillars in my identity as a child of God.  It didn't mean that all the attempts at freedom turned out successful right away, but what it did mean was that I was moving forward.  

No longer allowing myself to be held in by the umbrella.  

It, in turn, gave me the opportunity to feel many emotions that I had stuffed or hidden deep inside, and it also invited me to process the experiences of my life--whether good or bad. It was not always easy and still isn't, but God was always faithful. And still is.

And once I went through one door, it was much easier to go through another door.  And another door.  And another door.

And you know what? I can still struggle with it sometimes--- but it has stop ruling my life.  In fact, I now find it almost fun to push the boundaries of my insecurities. Deeper and Deeper into Acceptance I go. Constantly receiving the grace to believe the beauty of my Father's love for me...celebrating the unique way in which He delicately and deliberately created me. 

And you.

So, with that, I'll leave with you a few thoughts/questions to ponder as we process the way shame has played a part in our journeys...

How often do you hear the questions or thoughts above in your mind? Spend a day intentionally paying attention to how you react to yourself in normal everyday activities. When you hear one of the lies, stop what you're doing and recognize how you're feeling. It can be as big as giving a presentation for work or as small as a comment you make on Facebook. Shame won't discriminate. It likes to show up anywhere. Brene Brown, an author and speaker, often says she knows she's in the shame cycle when her heart beats fast and she starts saying things to herself like "Why did you do that? What were you thinking?". The first step to change is recognizing where shame likes to creep in. Can you notice a specific pattern in your life?

Where can you take a practical step forward in a creative endeavor or area of passion that you've always wanted to try but have been scared to? If you want to run a marathon, buy a pair of shoes. If you want to dance, find a studio. If you want to paint, put on some music and try it. Make a list of things you'd like to pursue. Share it with someone. And then, try them! (And do not judge yourself in the process!)

How can you take a step forward relationally? Is there a person you'd really like to get to know but are afraid that she wouldn't be interested in hanging out with you? Ask her. Or is there something you are really struggling with but are afraid to share? Find a safe friend, and let it out. Women love to know one another and to be known; it's in our DNA! Pursue a friend.

And--as women with a high calling--let's be actively aware of opportunities to celebrate one another and to be advocates for one another! Let's be great listeners and trusted friends. Let's be encouraging to one another in each of our unique personalities and giftings and character, pulling greatness out of each other's lives. I think we will find that we are surrounded by a wealth of hidden beauty and gifts that are eagerly waiting to be opened.

Boundaries.

Let's talk about boundaries.

Oh, I love 'em. And sometimes I hate 'em--but most of the time, I love 'em.

Remember when I talked about The Slow Down? It's another term for boundaries.

I used to be really bad about boundaries.  Like if you asked me to do your laundry, I'd probably say "yes"--even if I had only met you 10 minutes earlier.  I'm a compassionate soul (as most people who are horrible with boundaries tend to be), and I would pretty much allow myself to be a doormat in order for someone else to be happy.

And then, somewhere down the line, I got angry when I had an epiphany that I didn't have to be a doormat. I realized how much I had been played. I was tired and not fulfilled in my own life or desires.  I had spent all my time living up to what I thought I should be doing or what I thought someone else thought I should be doing. Or what someone else did-in-fact think I should be doing. Not to mention, I was endowed with "God-pleasing" syndrome.  It's that ugly religious thing that makes you think you have to "do" something for God to be happy with you. Lies--all of 'em!

And then somewhere around 25 years of age, I had a midlife crisis.

Apparently, I was ahead of the game--cause I sure plan on living longer than 50 years.

The other week I was praying about resentment. Yup, resentment.  It usually sneaks it's ugly head up when I've forgiven someone more than multiple times--and then I keep getting "pooped on"--for lack of better terms.  I asked God how I could deal with this resentment. I didn't want to be resentful--and I didn't want to be pooped on.  My compassionate and sometimes horribly boundaried side wanted so badly for change to occur, and my "you don't deserve that" and more protective (and sometimes isolating side) was over it.

And then ya know what He showed me?  A picture of a bull.  It was behind a gate--hoofing and snorting breaths out of it's nose.  It was kinda ticked off--and it was about to be released out of this gate...into a Rodeo.

I asked God: "How did that thing get activated?"  And you know what appeared? A big, RED cloth. Right in front of its nose.

After I took some time to figure out what a bull represented, I started to understand.  A bull often plows the way, it's a forerunner, it goes ahead.  And red is often it's trigger. Red--forgiveness.  Grace. Generosity.  Compassion.  But you know what else a bull is? A little stubborn, a little forceful, and it doesn't have time for chit chat.  If a rider jumps on, it's time to Rodeo.

That's kind of where I feel like I am.  This spring was all about Forgiveness. It was about humility.  About laying my life down--allowing compassion to drive my decisions--instead of judgement. It was learning how to love others more than I loved myself.

And now?

It feels like it's time to Rodeo.

It doesn't mean that I stop forgiving or stop being compassionate.  That's my DNA.  It just means that all that extra "sure-I'll-do-your-dirty-laundry-for-you" is over. Over as in I have my left hand on my hip, and I'm wavin' my right hand in a squiggle and ending with a snap. Ova.

I don't have to be coarse, and I don't have to be rude--but I do need boundaries.

It's learning how to say yes and also learning how to say no.


It's ok to lay down my life for someone else when He tells me so. But when I'm getting taken advantage of, I can say no.  I've got a life and calling, too, ya know.  There are other things I'd like to do besides dying a million times.

And that's where we Rodeo.

It's God's grace to me when He shows me how to Rodeo. Jesus rodeo-ed.  He turned tables when people were selling things in His House. He got mad that people's Rest was getting stolen.

He doesn't like it when we're not at peace. He doesn't like it when we get taken advantage of.  He doesn't like it when we spend all of our time trying to "do" instead of getting to "be".  Not only because it is exhausting---but also because it steals our destiny.  I can't spend my time being who I'm supposed to be, flourishing in my unique design, when I'm too busy overextending myself so that other people "might" choose to walk in theirs.

Boundaries.

I can be compassionate, but I don't have to be a doormat.  I can have boundaries, but I don't have to be mean.  I promise not to hook you with my bullhorns as long as we both understand that we're all in process.  You can be free to be you--and I can be free to be me.  If I say no to you, it doesn't mean I don't love you.  It means that I actually do love you--enough to let you walk out your own journey.  I won't be a co-dependent "parent" and bail someone out all the time, and that someone won't grow up being entitled and naive. I'm not planning on being on the cover of Time magazine--if ya know what I'm sayin'.

And so, in loving Sarah fashion, I will just say this.  The grace is lifting for this season--and I'm pretty sure I'm shifting into the next season. It's really fun and spunky and there are bull horns and an announcer.  There's quite a bit of dirt, and I get to wear a cowboy hat and boots.

And I'm learning how to balance...

...one hand tied to keep me steady and the other hand flailing around in the air enjoying the ride of My Life......

Yee haw!

Community.

Something about having a second kid has made me more hospitable.  And by hospitable, I mean, somewhat desperate for community.  I wouldn't say that I am necessarily a lonely person.  I actually crave alone time--but I am one of those people who loves living life with other people. I was obsessed with living on campus during college.  I loved community living. I adored the fact that I shared a shoebox-sized room with my best friend--and that our best friends lived directly across from us--only two feet away.  I loved that more best friends lived down the hall and that I could walk past their rooms at any given time to see what they were up to. I thrive in community.

David and I fell in love with our college experience, and so my huh-knee thought four years on campus wasn't enough.  He decided to get his Masters Degree in Higher Education (he wanted to stay on a college campus forever!), and because of that, we got to live on campus for our first four years of marriage while he managed a residence hall--after already living on campus for four years of undergrad.  There's something we just love about being connected--and so we stayed at college.  Granted, we had our own "apartment"--we weren't living in a small room--but we still were living in a residence hall. There is just something so fun about going downstairs to the coffee bar knowing you'll run into at least a few people you know.  Not to mention, it's totally acceptable if you're wearing your pajamas. There's always something to do, there's always someone to talk to.

There have been several times since we've been married that we've contemplated how to get "communal living" back into our lives.  We got the chance to live with our spiritual mama and poppa for a few months when we first moved to Nashville.  We had hour long talks around the dinner table, sipping wine, and telling stories.  We laughed, we cried, we came alive. We talked about how in Europe they have an activity we lovingly nicknamed the "Slow Food Club" where they take an entire day to make dinner together and slowly eat each course, keeping one another company, and living life together.

What's happened to America?

My friend just said yesterday "I think women miss out on not going to the well to get water or going to the river to do laundry. We're so isolated in our own houses doing our own thing."  My thoughts exactly.

I just finished reading a book called 7 by Jen Hatmaker.  This is one of my favorite passages from her book. She is contextually talking about community and hospitality--of having people over for meals instead of always meeting somewhere and dishing out big dough and feeding the "consumer" machine.

"So yes, eating is still a starting player, but being in each other's homes, cooking, and sharing food together is delightful.  Eating a meal in a restaurant is one thing but friends paddling around barefoot in your kitchen and chopping carrots for your soup and sipping their coffee on your deck is another creature altogether.  This exits the expediency of consumerism and enters the realm of hospitality.

There is something so nourishing about sharing your living space with people where they see your junk  mail pile and pee wee football schedule on the fridge and piles of shoes by the front door.  Opening your home says, "You are welcome into my real life."  This square footage is where we laugh and hold family meetings and make homemade corn dogs and work through meltdowns.  Here is the railing our kids pulled out of the wall.  This is the toilet paper we prefer.  These are the pictures we frame, the books we're reading, the projects we're undertaking--the raw material of our family.  It's unsanitized and truthful.  We invite you into this intimate place, saturated with our family character.

Maybe this is why hospitality was big to the early church.  Living together in the sacred spaces of our homes is so unifying.  When our Christian forerunners were persecuted and misunderstood, when belief in Jesus was dangerous and isolating, they had one another.  They had dinner around the table.  They had Sabbath together.  They had soft places to fall when they traveled.  Safe in the home of a fellow Christ follower, they could breathe, pray, rest.  What a gift."

And so this all makes me think.  How do we get this back?

And authentically.  Not superficially manipulated--but organically.

Nashville is all about cows, and farms, and music, and family.  That's why I moved here. And yet, like most other places in the U.S., it can still be isolating. And there is still an identity crisis looming through the streets. Probably because of the isolation. (And because of the Franklin-ite haircuts--you only know if you live here. Just think Ryan from this season of the Bachelorette. And, no, I don't watch that show. Geez. Lame.)

Anyway.........

Community.  Whose with me? Who will let their guard down? Be vulnerable enough to let someone in.  Even when you haven't cleaned your oven in two years. (That's me).  Come on over......we can clean it out together--and then make some dinner..........

Sabbath.

I used to like to answer emails, clean the house, organize things, take Ella for trips to "far-away" lands (the park), and eat my lunch--at lunch time.  In other words, I liked to be what I believed was "productive".  I was livin' life...I could get a lot done in a short period of time.

And then...something happened.

Someone happened.

Sometwo happened.

And life changed a little bit.  I was still getting things done. I mean, I created a human being with my body.  That is definitely productive.  And yet, the quantity and quality of that productivity changed.

About a month before Lucy was born, I deliberately took a month to "rest". We had a pretty busy period of time during most of her pregnancy. So, April was all about soaking up the quiet. Napping. Relaxing. Spending quality time with Ella as an only child.

I kept hearing one of my favorite Mike Bickle quotes over and over during this time.  "Lovers will always outwork workers." I love that quote.

I used to love being involved in everything. Earlier in life, I was 99% extrovert. I was also what you could call over-extended.  Oh, and codependent.

But something in my brain switched when we moved to a gulf view of Alabama's coast about five years ago.

It's what I like to call "The Slow Down".

It turned two 99% extroverts (my hubby and I) into two 99% introverts for about four years.  And, you know, I've come to a whole new appreciation for my introvert side because of that.  I would now say the scales are much more balanced. We're more like 50/50...but that down time, that introvert time, it just has to be.

I have to take time to pull the sheets up and nourish my soul with the stillness of nothing.  With the Sabbath resonating in my spirit.

Having another baby helps with this.  It reminds me of how quote "productivity" can shield us from refreshment.  And from life.

My pastor once gave a sermon about the presence of God.  He said that having a new baby is the closest example he could think of that described the importance of stewarding God's presence.  When a new baby arrives, everything is about that baby.  If the baby cries, you comfort it. If the baby is hungry, you feed it.  If the baby needs a diaper change, you change it.  There is nothing more important that what that baby needs. You don't sleep unless the baby sleeps, and you don't do anything unless the baby is taken care of.

And that's exactly what this feels like. Stewarding the presence of God.

The Slow Down.

Productivity takes on a whole new meaning.

My husband came home from work the other day and sweetly said: "Hi Honey--How was your day?"  I replied: "Ummmmmm, I wiped about twenty butts. How was yours?" Now previous to this day, I would not have thought that changing that many diapers in a day was considered "productive".  At first, in fact, I may or may not have thought "What just happened to my life?"

But as the days go by, and I realize how much anxiety-induced productivity my life once included, I think to myself "Wow. Wiping twenty butts isn't so bad."

I'm learning a whole new rhythm.

The Slow Down.

It's actually quite nice.  It automatically axes the activity that I may or may not have needed to do before.  When I only have three hours of my day to do something for myself, I'm much more picky in choosing something that will actually be beneficial to me and to my family.

And sometimes that is doing nothing.

And in the nothing, something is birthed.  Sometimes I often wonder if God is just waiting for us to stop.  You know, like when you're trying to dress a toddler? If he or she would just sit still for a little while, it'd only take a few seconds to get dressed.  To be ready.  For whatever the day might hold.

For whatever a Life may hold.

It's really a lifestyle choice.  And one I've absolutely fallen in love with.....

When I award myself the time to be a Lover, I am way more "productive" than when I thought I should be a worker.

It's a beautifully freeing way to live...

Happy Sabbath.....

Surfin'.

I am currently sitting Indian-style in a slobber covered loveseat--with residual chunks of Ella's spilled and St. Bernard-chewed "snack" digging into my ankles.  I have an iced latte, which I made about an hour ago, to my right.  I have only gotten to sip one sip since making that first beloved cup of caffeine at 11:30am.  I've been up since 4am. I also am wearing a new perfume that I'd like to call sour milk meets postpartum hormonal sweat.

And you know what, it's ok.

I spent the entire morning scooping up a crying newborn while a toddler pulled at my arm to get me off the couch because a St. Bernard was devouring the snack she had sitting on the ottomon.  We did this about fifteen times until I just stood in the middle of the living room looking at all the crumbs, and slobber, and all the toys covering the carpet and.........laughed.

I mean, really. What else is there to do?

I'd like to say that this state of chaos is the result of my promotion.  I made it! Two kids!  It's kind of like when you first take flight.  In order to get above the clouds--to go really fast--you have to actually pass through the clouds.  And usually that causes a little turbulence.

We go from glory to glory.

And I now that I received my promotion, I'm learning the ropes.

I figure with these stages in life, we can look at this several ways.  1. I can drive myself crazy by trying desperately to "keep everything together". 2. Or I can just roll with the punches.

I've decided to roll with the punches.  Life is messy.  Kids are messy.  St. Bernards are messy.  My husband is......(just kidding, huh-knee!).  Actually, shout out to that man of a husband. He has cleaned the house every morning before leaving for work....including doing laundry, sweeping, mopping, you name it. I'm not sure how I got so blessed.

But back to rolling with the punches.....

I've been thinkin'. Me? Thinkin'? I know, big shock.  But really. This chaos. It's kind of beautiful.  It's made me think about vulnerability.  And about acceptance.  And about being ok with where I am.  All the time.  It's breaking down even more layers of control in my life...more layers of that "what if someone saw my house like this right now?"  In fact, I thought to myself...."Who can I invite over right now? I need someone to see this.  I need that raw reality.  Vulnerability.  Hey people--this is where I am.  I'm sitting in a crumb-covered loveseat, and I'm not even thinking about vacuuming it up."

I once had someone ask me how I can blog so candidly about my life.  How I can hope for such wild and crazy dreams to come true--and just put them out there on the internet--even if I don't know how they'll take shape or if I'll fail or not.  I simply replied, "What do I care what people think?"

Now--granted--I was in a moment of strength at the time.  There are other times I do care what people think.  But, as I've been gaining a new sense of acceptance and self-worth over the last year or so, I've come to realize that anything less than me being honest about where I am is just boring.  And so not relationally fulfilling.  I'm not interested in anyone's surface life--I want the real deal.  The nitty-gritty.  In fact, I usually make new friends by saying something like: "Hi, I'm Sarah--here's my life story. What's yours?! Please make sure to include details. I love details."

And so, upon having a second child, I am learning yet another layer of nitty-gritty.  New phase in life....and you know what? There's no way for me to keep a clean house right now.  But, I'm happy as a clam.  I'm learning how to ride the wave.  Surfing isn't fun if you never brave a bigger and more challenging wave.

And that's what this feels like.

People keep asking me how I'm doing with the transition.  And thankfully, I have to say that it's been way easier than expected.  Not necessarily because there is not chaos...because there is chaos.  But because I know how to surf better than I did the first time.  And that doesn't necessarily have to do with my parenting skills but simply with my state of perspective.  With my understanding of Rest.

He is good....all the time. And so I give myself permission to relax........and roll with the punches.


Happy Thursday! I think I might go take a shower now.....

Living Outrageously Loved

I've been thinking about this.  Living Outrageously Loved. I think I heard Graham Cooke say it that way the first time. He said "I'm living outrageously loved--and that jolly well settles it."

I certainly have felt it the last week. It's amazing how the gift of a new baby can do that...make you feel loved....even in the midst of a lack of sleep and sore tailbones and....and....and. There's a certain ecstasy in a newborn; the evidence of a miracle.

There's this paradox in our world that goes a few ways on "Love". And when I say "Love", I'm thinking of a certain definition. In my mind, perhaps I've made it up, but I truly believe it's the kind of love the Bible talks about.  Unconditional. Fully accepting and yet always bringing you higher.  There's no settling when it comes to real love. It always sees the good and as a result, the "not so good" behavior has a chance to fall by the wayside. It's constantly seeking to encourage, to bring life, and to shut down death. Real Love is Life.

And we were made for eternal Living.

Yes, our human bodies will fail us at some time. But thank God this isn't all we have going for us.

I've been thinking about perspective a lot lately as I continually learn the art of forgiveness--which essentially is the art of Giving. Of Generosity. Of Living Outrageously Loved.

We had a beautiful time of praying in our little Lucy at our House Church a few months ago.  One of our friends said that Lucy would carry a spirit of generosity with her--and that she would always be giving out to others.  She said our tendency might be to try to guard her so as not to let her be "abused", but that this wouldn't happen. It seems that our Lucy would have the strategic wisdom to give powerfully.

Isn't that beautiful?

Children are such gifts from God. They birth in us who they were created to be from the very beginning. I-Love-That.

She is but a week and a half old---out of the womb--and yet her generous spirit has taught me Love. She's taught me how to give. To forgive. To live outrageously Loved.

And Living Loved is why we're here. It's our purpose.

I love being loved. Not because I'm insecure--though there are surely spots in me that are. I love being loved because that's why He made me. To be loved.

And then to give it out.

This makes life make sense. And it is the absolutely happiest way to live. No storm can weather your path when you live a life loved.  No discipline or correction makes you second guess yourself because living a Life loved is always being called higher.  From glory to glory.

Living loved can look several different ways. Some people may think of it as conceit, but it's only because they haven't experienced it. Truly loving yourself is not conceit. It's your identity. God made us because He thinks we're wonderful.  Why would I disagree with God? Yes, I'm a victim of the Fall. Yes, I have faults. Yes, I need to apologize when I do something wrong. Yes, I occasionally need discipline. But we must remember that the Fall is not who He created us to be.  He created me perfect--as an outflow of His very nature.  And He created you perfect, too.

When something comes against that nature of divine perfection, it is only there to help us see where we might be living outside of God's best.

People may recognize our faults. Sure; it happens every day (that's why this is so important!). But what they do with our faults proves their loyalty to us.  If they decide to inherently pull out our potential even in the midst of mistakes, that is Love.  This is what God does. Jesus made a bypass for our faults.  Surely there will be ebbs and flows, and there will be people and circumstances who seem against us---but in all reality, "all things work together for good according to His purposes for us (Romans 8:28)". Nothing can hold us back from the goodness of God unless we choose to believe a lie.

I'm adamant that our first reason for being is for Love. Period.  Our second reason for being is to give that Love out. Period.

The Bible is the book of Restoration, not of discipline. Justice is Reconciliation with the Father---not judgement. We love our kids first, we discipline them if it's for their safety and well-being.  Same as our God. He's not focusing on our sin. He's focusing on His love for us. 

And this is where all Forgiveness is birthed. As humans, we can't force ourselves to forgive, we don't have enough willpower to do so.  Of course, we can be willing to forgive.  But forgiveness comes from an outflow of learning how to live loved. We forgive--because He loves us.

We are giving--because He loves us. We live lives of joy because He teaches us how to receive His love.

And we can't give out what we haven't chosen to receive in the first place.

That's what I've been learning anyway.....again.

And, so, it's this ebb and flow of love. Receiving Love. Then giving it. And each time, my joy bubble increases and increases. Fear disappears. Forgiveness is innate. Life tastes Good.

Just another reason I love Red............

Saved by Grace so that no man can boast. It is a gift from God. Fully Accepted into the Beloved Heart of the Father. (Eph. 2:8, Isaiah 53:3)

And that "jolly well settles it."