ruined

"Man of sorrows," what a name for the Son of God who came, ruined sinners to reclaim...

My getting-ready-for-bed routine was captivated by these lyrics last night. And not even the entire line, but just two words: ruined sinners.

Huh. Sinner, yes. Absolutely. Daily. Moment-by-moment. Each one from birth. Prideful, arrogant, self-"saving," hypocrite. Jealous, haughty, competitive, lazy. Yes, I can easily claim all of these.

But ruined? Is that not just the slightest bit harsh? 

When I look at the list of sins I just made, I nearly chuckle to think those would not add up to "ruined." However, per those same sins, I so easily feel that I still bring so many good things to the table when I come to feast with Jesus. Perhaps the thought never comes quite so bluntly, but wrapped into my motivations and expectations and assumptions about this spiritual life is the subtle yet potent notion that God is lucky to have me on His side. Feelings and attitudes of self-importance and pride are stripped bare by a phrase like "ruined sinners."

Not just "people who messed up but were still pretty much good."

Not "precious sinners."

Not "pitiable sinners."

Not "well-they-tried-their-best sinners" or "they-did-more-good-than-bad sinners."

RUINED sinners. 

Ruined (adjective): botched, broken, defaced, done for, harmed, harried, hurt, impaired, injured, marred, mutilated, pillaged, plundered, robbed, spoiled.

Not painting a picture of a worn down mini-hero hobbling to the table really, is it? Given that this word is describing sinners, wrongdoers and offenders, it follows that nothing about the described is at all appealing or admirable or worthwhile or even functional. More that the back-stabber, liar, cheat has reached utter destruction and been left for dead. That the status of sinner equates to ruin.

Humbling re-realization for a rule-following, people-pleasing, score-keeping, "good" girl.

And, surprisingly enough, here is joy! That I am loved, reclaimed, valued by my Heavenly Father, not because I have done anything at all, and not because He gains anything from me that He did not already have, but because He gets glory in redeeming my ruins. He gets praise in the reconstruction. His universe-altering love is front and center when my neediness and sin and insufficiency are revealed.

By His love he delights in me. Not because I never tasted alcohol before I was 21 years and 3 months old. Not because my lips never kissed before my wedding day. Not because I rarely miss church. Not because I have read the Bible all the way through a handful of times. Not because I floss my teeth religiously.

In fact, my best efforts are so not good, I might as well have thought God needed me because I have never had a cavity.

ALL of it is silly, at best.

ALL of it is vile, in reality.

ALL of it is offensive, in truth.

ANYTHING I thought was gaining me acceptance with Jesus is garbage, a word the Bible uses for both our "good deeds" and a woman's menstrual cloth. Blood soaked and stenching tampons--that is what I proudly bring to the feet of Jesus too often.

Ruined. Ruined. Ruined. Sinner. That is me.

Sinner who has no hope if not to be dressed by grace in Jesus' perfection, His good work, His pure and cleansing blood. Not my unclean discharge of unused organ lining. His poured out life-blood of innocent God Man.

Nothing to offer. Nothing to bring. Only gratitude for His grace, to bless His heart, to know His face, to multiply His love. Blessed to be a blessing.

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

"Man of Sorrows!" what a name

For the Son of God, who came

Ruined sinners to reclaim

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Bearing shame and scoffing rude

In my place condemned He stood

Sealed my pardon with His blood

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Guilty, vile and helpless we,

Spotless Lamb of God was He

"Full atonement!" Can it be?

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Lifted up was He to die;

"It is finished!" was His cry;

Now in Heaven exalted high.

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

When He comes, our glorious King,

All His ransomed home to bring,

Then anew His song we'll sing

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

a day in the life...or maybe a week

I feel I am overdue for some day-to-day updates on how things are for us here and there, but I hope to soon write with more structure so as to truly record all that Jesus is doing.

Stephen is well. Unfortunately, for security reasons, I cannot post details about where he is and what he is doing, but if you would like to be added to his email update list please let me know. What I can relay is that he has recently changed jobs, locations and schedules, and we would so appreciate your prayers for all of the transition. He is amazing--so proud of him. And so excited to see what all Jesus will do in these new opportunities as we trust His ways are truly higher than ours.

Time seems to be passing rather quickly right now as the countdown to his leave closes in. I decided this week that I could probably handle having my kitchen countdown ordered chronologically now. Rather than searching for the next week to come down each Sunday, I decided to hang them properly. We are almost halfway there! Praise Jesus!

Juliet continues to fill 45 hours of my week. We have fun at music classes and have recently begun "Mommy & me" gymnastics (I definitely get my work-out in during that hour. We go to at least one library story time each week, we are VIPs at all the nearby playgrounds, and she fills me up daily with tea parties, "tuptapes," and "stittuhs." (That's "cupcakes" and "stickers" for those who do not speak Toddlerese." She's a little bundle of joy and has fully, though unknowingly, risen to the challenge of receiving most of my hugs and all of my kisses while Stephen is gone. Goodness, I love this little girl!

Speaking of the park, I believe I have mentioned before that Juliet and I met another nanny named Cat on one of our outings back in the fall. Cat's husband is almost finished with his year-long contract job in Afghanistan and will be home in no time at all, but she has been one of Jesus' biggest gifts to me in this deployment. We laugh about it almost every time we see each other, that we met at the park, pushing "our" babies in the swings, and have quickly become such good, if not best, friends. Cat lives less than 15 minutes away, which is amazing because we are almost always free to hang out together! Some of our adventures so far include Christmas dinner at the Kumps' followed by Fantasy in Lights, outings with the FRG, cleaning out my closet at my parents' house, and spending 12+ hours crafting spring wreaths for our front doors. Juliet loves loves loves Cat's "Baby Andreas," so we make every attempt to see each other during the day in addition to hanging out 2-4 times a week. What a gift! I love her!

The other wives of the FRG (Family Readiness Group) from Stephen's unit are amazing women, and I am so thankful for their company through this year. We go to dinner, make care packages, eat good food, try new things, go see chick flicks, and share each others' struggles. I always look forward to time with these women, the wives and mothers of the soldiers we sent overseas.

Another huge source of encouragement and accountability has been a new friend named Katie. If you know me at all, you're probably wondering how I've managed to find yet another life-long friend who shares my name, but it's true. Katie Lynn Sims is in our small group along with her husband, Brian, a commercial pilot. She and I share the single-wifing lifestyle approximately 50% of the time when he is on trips, but she checks in with me every night no matter what to makes sure that I made it home and am locked inside. I even gave her my dad's name and number in case she is ever deeply concerned about my whereabouts. Katie, along with Liz, Carrie, Kathryn and Brittany, have been amazing prayer warriors over our lives and marriage. So grateful for new community to share this stage of life with.

One of the childhood songs that has yet to escape me says, "Make new friends, but keep the old.." So with that I am happy to announce the engagement of one of my very best bestie's engagement and upcoming wedding! On Saturday, June 23, Marisa Acree will marry Curtis Shields, and I am delighted to have the privilege of helping them celebrate! I cannot wait to see what Jesus has in store for these two! (And I am selfishly looking forward to distracting myself with all things wedding when Stephen leaves again after R&R--thanks, Ris!)

I have also joined the YMCA (for free, courtesy of the US Military--thank you, fellow tax payers) and am LOVING Zumba classes. I was made to dance! And this week my dear friend Rene also joined, which made it even more fun! 

We received word a few weeks ago that we will be able to continue renting in our current arrangement until the end of October. There had been a lot of drama in that department, but we are so grateful for the compassion that the HOA here has shown us. We owe many of you a heartfelt thank you for your prayers over what could have been a very stressful situation. Jesus has provided once again!

And finally, I am so enjoying having my brother nearby at Kennesaw State University. He began his freshman year in the fall, and I know it was God's provision for me that he would bring Nate so close as Stephen left to go so far. Nate has been an all-star brother all his life, but especially this year. We go on dates, watch movies, he brings friends to eat my food and play my xbox, and he even went swing dancing with me at Georgia Tech one week. He is one of the best sports I know, and he's really pretty good at swing dancing too! Thank you, bud, for loving me well.

As always, thank you for praying. Jesus is loving and full of grace.

remembering is the trigger for gratitude

Ok, Jesus. Here's everything.

Today I am full. Exhausted a little, perhaps, but full.

Overflowing. Overwhelmed, even?

To begin, a book is changing my life. At least this year, but I pray that it sticks. One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. 

Oh that I could sum up the entire book in a sentence to claim for each morning! Gratitude is the expression of my faith in God that brings me to His presence moment by moment, remembering His faithfulness, accepting every minute as His gift of grace, finding joy, blessing others. 

Remembering, what the Israelites and I fail to do so easily. But last week I had the opportunity to remember corporately in our small group what God has done, how He has called, how we have answered. To hear the stories of others, to recount bits of mine, and to ruminate on all that words will never express was humbling and thrilling all at the same time.

How far He has brought me! 

My commute to and from work takes me by a middle school each day. Once each week, sometimes more often, Juliet and I mosey down the street on our way to the park and pass the students outside for lunch time. The girls giggle in circles as they watch the boys throwing rocks at each other. Flashbacks to grade school are frequent and comical.

Playing MASH at midnight with squealing girlfriends. So glad I didn't marry my middle school crush in a peach wedding dress to have five kids living in a shack.

Buying everything with the title Princess on it. Purse. Shirts. Door knockers. Pillows. Antenna balls. (Yes, even when I was old enough to drive.)

Sitting on AIM hoping boys would talk to me. Asking my girl friends to suggest it to them. One word: Nextel.

The sillyness record could go on, I'm sure, but in the midst of all of that, somehow, Jesus was truly grabbing my heart. 

He so clearly called me back to public school after a few years in private and Christian.

He so deeply ingrained a desire to be a wife and mom who stays home with her kids.

He gave me a knack for Spanish that, oddly enough, landed me at Georgia Tech. Of course since then I've realized that, academically speaking, I should have pursued writing at a liberal arts school. His timing, so amusing.

He spoke clearly on Pref Night at Alpha Chi, meeting me in the upstairs hallway and Anna Griffith's (now Bolduc's) words. Here. Seek Me here. Find Me here. Bring Me here.

In the disinterest I wrestled with through half the classes in my major He turned my heart away from so many political jobs that were not His plans.

And as I haggled with corporate America and schools and churches for jobs after graduation, He brought me back to the desire for staying home with my children as well as the opportunity to train for that in a very real way.

He interrupted my mourning old flames with the conflagration of love that He had built in Stephen Kump for me over a handful of years, and He moved clear as crystal to bring us to marriage before deployment began.

He brought us in engagement to a community of God-lovers known as the Village Church in Vinings and has knit me into a core group of women who come around me relentlessly in this season. He also set us near families who are several steps ahead of us to learn from and follow.

He is orchestrating the events of this deployment, both at home and across the ocean, so that His name and renown are maximized. Imperfectly on our end, but gloriously on His. More details of that shortly, but for now...

Wonder. 

Gratitude.

Amazement.

Awe.

Giggling even.

Jesus has done all of that? And my recounting does not even begin with salvation right now.

But if He has done all of this and more, how can I not be delighted to follow Him? How can I not be tickled by His workings now? How can I not praise Him and move joyfully into each new day? 

Remembering. Remembering fosters gratitude. 

Because even if none of these things had happened, memory of the cross and the empty tomb would be more than enough to cultivate adoration and enjoyment in all He has for me now.

Resting here. Because "He who began a good work...will bring it to completion." (Philippians 1:6)

Day for Love

The writing itch is here today. Some days not, but today here.

A day for Love.

But are not they all?

Atlanta weather is dreary today. Spring and winter tug-of-warring for control of our skies and air and hearts. Hearts that are invited into a sea of red and pink around every corner and down every aisle. Roses everywhere. Chocolate galore. Stuffed animals and hearts and over-the-top everything. All at once intoxicating to those partaking in pairs, but revolting to many who find themselves alone.

And somewhere in the middle I am sitting during nap time, chatting online with the one I love, gazing out at the saddened trees and gloomy sky. Remembering another gloomy, darkened day of Love many, many years ago.

Quite contrary to today's celebration of perfect partners everywhere, that Friday marked simultaneously the climax of cosmic adultery and the excruciating depth of the Groom's love for His whoring bride. Love, red, inviting hearts, yes. Blood red, covering hearts. Celebrating not the beloved, but the Lover. Red love cascading over the chasm, filling it up, quenching the wrath, saturating my thirst. Overwhelming and powerful and free. 

This love finds me today. Calms me. Settles me. Cements me in greater reality. Brings life. Offers joy. 

Gratitude. 

My night has been spent with two of the women I love most in the world, neither of which would be as easy to reach if Stephen were here. And so tonight, all three of us crawling into beds we wish were not empty (ok, mine is not if Pink Puppy and clean laundry count), have at least shared a meal, and some laughs, and some chocolate. 

And I pray the Holy Spirit filled our asparagus and our affection, and will, in all things, draw our hearts to Jesus. 

Jesus, sweet Jesus. My Groom. My King. 

Five Minute Friday: Trust

I quite literally chuckled when I saw today's writing prompt. Trust.

The last few weeks have been relatively silent here on the blog, and likely in most other ways between me and you, dear reader. I've been wrestling hard with this season: first year of marriage, first year-long deployment. The challenges are overwhelming some days. 

And beyond that there is no one to share it all with. Not all of it. Not fully.

Except Jesus.

In my loneliness, never alone, and learning not only how to trust Him, but how little I do sometimes. Life falls apart all too quickly when my trust is anywhere other than the slain and risen Lamb of God. 

So I'm learning what it means to trust. And all I have today in this process is remembering His scars. Nestling into His wounds. Getting lost in the sacrifice He made for me. Knowing Him. Knowing His heart. Knowing that no matter how deep my wounds may feel, I deserve them to be much deeper. No matter how out of control life seems, the cross shines hope on what makes no sense to flesh.

"All the paths of the Lord are steadfast love and faithfulness..."

Psalm 25:10