Revealing Grace

I have been thinking for the past few days about love. I always thought I understood what love is. This powerful word that we say so easily and so easily claim. I thought that I understood love, but recently I have questioned: what does love actually look like? What is love in action ? What happens when I quit just saying the word and I start living a life of selfless love? __________ When I was single, I would try to gain the affections of some or another guy. My desire was not that they would let me love them , but that if I worked hard enough then they would love me back. It was a selfish desire, not a selfless one. And the trend of my singleness, I believe, is common. We so easily get easily swayed into a selfish love without even realizing it. We do things to please the other person, hoping that it will in turn make them love us more. We serve our husband or wife in the name of love, but we are actually hoping to get something in return. It masks itself as true love, but r...

*Disclaimer: This post was written one year ago , almost to the day. I did not post it then for fear that it was too vulnerable, but I feel like I need to post it now. Too many people give into depression and suicide because we don't talk about it. I hope that this experience will give someone else hope that they are not alone, and that maybe they will, like me, take steps towards healing. If you (whether I know you or not) ever need someone to talk to, please contact me. We need each other in this world, and no one should feel the depths of pain alone.* Written: May 2016 I've debated on whether I write about this too much. I've debated that maybe I don't write about this enough. So if it sounds like you've read it before, feel free to move on. If not, stick around. Probably this post is more for me than you anyways. To start with, I think there is this misconception that if you are single you can work more because you don't have a family. This is dumb. J...

I spent last week laying on a beach in Mexico thanks to the extreme generosity of a good friend. It's ok to be jealous, it was pretty awesome. The funny thing was that even though we were in a little piece of paradise, Cameron and I could not figure out how to relax for the life of us. You see, our vacations are generally active vacations. We pick places where we can hike every morning, or go to museums and do some sightseeing. This vacation, though, was different. In this location of Mexico there was absolutely nothing to do except lay on the beach, or lay by the pool, or read on the patio while overlooking the ocean. Yea, rough life. So the first day Cameron and I did all of the obligatory laying around and reading and by the end of the day we were totally freaking out. "We might have to leave early," Cameron said. " I don't think I can do this for 4 more days." "Yea, who knew that being lazy would be so difficult!!" It was such a weird ...

I miss the words that used to flow like ocean waves from my fingertips.  Like the tides they would present themselves.  They were reliable, they were my lifeline.  And then so much changed and I think I could barely figure out myself let alone the words to express it.  I lost myself somewhere.  I lost the words that were so precious to me and I curled up into the shell that I had created and decided that the world was bleak and I was better off cutting myself loose.  To produce words would mean to process and I did not want to process. Processing can mean pain, and my little shell was comfortable and dark, but manageable.  Processing was not manageable.  So the words packed themselves into a box and decided not to bother me. Since I was rather snappy it was probably better for them anyways.  But despite my resistance the words kept pressing against the tips of my fingers, begging to be written. Maybe my identity was a li...

Let's get real ya'll. This week in church we talked about that verse. You know, the one that makes you cringe and wonder what the heck Paul really knew anyways? Yup, we talked about the "wives submit to your husbands" verse and things. got. real. Here is a little of my history with the dreaded "s" word. In college I was always miffed by discussions about what a Christian woman and wife was supposed to be like. Anytime I heard the word "helper" I gagged a bit. It was interpreted as inferior, quiet, and just there to help the man be the best he could be. Every time I had to listen to one of these talks I was all, "yea no thanks. I am strong and powerful and I don't want to just be a little helper in a maid's outfit!" I was not a fan of the interpretation I had been given and I was not afraid to make that known, for the interpretation I was given was an incorrect one. After college I went to India on my own for a month, all ad...

Our house has three rooms. The first is the room we sleep in, the second is the music room, and the third is the guest room. In many houses the guest room sits vacant, always clean, and always ready for the one to two guests that come a year. But in our house, the guest room is different. This room almost consistently has somebody sleeping in it. Sometimes it is a friend from out of town, but more often than not it is someone local- a friend that needs a place for a while or just for a night, a student from the reservation that comes up for the weekend or comes back into town to stay at "home base" for a week. We have had people stay for five months, five weeks, or just one night. Our guest room is always ready for someone to come in and stay for as long as they need. The way we see it, if God gave us extra space then we are meant to use it for His glory. If God blessed us with a house then we should bless others with a place to sleep and a hot breakfast in the morning. ...

You hear these stories of people doing miraculous things to spread the good news of Jesus Christ. People moving to the countries in Africa, adopting orphans, or living and dying amongst cannibalistic  tribes in Latin America. These people have given up everything to follow the call of Jesus, and for years I have longed to be one of them. When I was in high school I felt called to the mission field while on a transformative trip to Mexico. I spent the next few years traveling back every summer, and in college did mission work in Spain, Portugal, and India. I was preparing for God to send me full-time onto the International mission field. I was, and continue to be, ready to give up everything for His mission. The comforts of middle class life, my possessions, my family- they were all negligible to me when I considered how God could use me in the jungles of Peru or with the indigenous tribes in Ecuador. I never wanted to live in the United States. I stood before the Lord and sa...