more tomorrow than today

ruined

2012-02-28T12:34:00.000-08:00

"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

2012-02-22T13:57:00.000-08:00

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

2012-02-22T13:39:00.002-08:00

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

2012-02-14T20:20:00.000-08:00

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

2012-02-10T12:35:00.000-08:00

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

pain & glory

2012-01-31T12:35:00.000-08:00

You are here,
ever near
You meet me where the bottom was
You take broken,
vile and twisted
Cross-blood turns it beautiful
Hold me closely,
heart so fragile,
Hands that bled to never bruise
Hear the heartbeat,
Trust Your history
For Your good glory all things used

Five Minute Friday: Tender

2012-01-27T11:26:00.000-08:00

Tender.

Go.

Today I am grateful for Jesus' tenderness toward me, for His intimate acquaintance with grief and suffering, joy and frustration. My heart is frustratingly tender these days, but such a condition compels me to place it continually in the only hands that are scarred but never inflict them. His tender mercies sustain me, from the magnitude of redemption to favorite cereals on sale, and every detail in between.

But His tender care does not prevent tears or heartache. In fact, those are frequently His tools. Hugs from friends that unavoidably spurt forth unchecked emotion, emails from overseas read in public, lonely nights, and reserved conversations with friends. Everything about this deployment has me isolated to Jesus alone. What other mercy is at times so gut-wrenching and yet so deeply comforting?

Stop.

And now my five minutes are up. I look back at the two tiny paragraphs I have mustered up. Words just are not enough these days, neither in quantity or quality. But thank you, Jesus, for your Spirit who fills in my words with much better ones as You tenderly pray for me at the Throne of grace.

heart migration

2012-01-24T19:14:00.000-08:00

Where buds of life slow burst to bloom

And flowers know not winter's tomb

Where bees and butterflies flit free

And rays embrace in balmy glee

Yes, where the birds fly south

Oh, where the birds fly south

Lacking chill of ice and winds

Lushest green that never ends

Sunsmile of heaven ever warm

Grass and laughter shining charm

Oh, where the birds fly south

Yes, where the birds fly south

Where life is rich but fragile not

Where no bad things need be forgot

Where no creature knows decay

No parents grieve the child they lay

Oh, where the birds fly south

Yes, where the birds fly south

Refuge that all life does seek

From bold and brave to poor and weak

Shelter, haven in life's night

Branches strong and hopeful bright

Yes, where the birds fly south

Oh, where the birds fly south

Allure my soul to seek it out

And to profuse in others' drought

Cross-life, my heart, ever to glow

As south sun draws the birds to go

Yes, where the birds fly south

Oh, where the birds fly south

Five Minute Friday: Awake

2012-01-13T14:38:00.000-08:00

It's Five Minute Friday! Today's prompt: awake.

GO.

Just a little while ago I woke up from a nap. Praise the Lord for naps! Incredible how useless wakefulness is when rest is left to the wind.

(Fun to watch Ju-Be waking up almost daily--courtesy to her for the pic!)

I truly believe that one of the hardest lessons the Lord is trying to teach me in this season is to rest. After four whirlwind years of college, followed by nearly two years of life with at least four other friends at a time, resting has been a difficult discipline to master...or even attempt at times.

Especially now with so much alone time, it is easy to feel that I am resting when I am actually only lonely. Solitude and rest are two very different things, though I would submit that solitude is often an integral part of rest for me.

The point being: if I am going to live a life that is fully awake, I must make room for the Lord to rejuvenate me and provide me with all the energy that wakeful living requires. My heart longs to be awakened to gratitude, to grasping each day for what it is, a gift. Awake to opportunities that require hard decisions and all the blood, sweat and tears my little heart can give.

I want to live in wakefulness, not in bleary-eyed grogginess for these precious days. Lord, teach me to nap, not only physically, but spiritually, mentally, emotionally as well. For the sake of all these other people on the planet that you love so much, let me live a life fully AWAKE!

Wipe the sleepy from my heart

Eyes to love the days' new start

Joy for walking life's great length

Peace for resting in Your strength

STOP.

Or, in the words of my dear friend, Sally: "Awokened!"

surreal

2012-01-06T20:50:00.001-08:00

One-quarter of the way through deployment, and the word that comes to mind? Surreal.

My marriage is surreal.

It is maintained by silent prayers throughout the day, hours, sweet and precious and few, that I behold his face upon this same screen, attempts at reading books and books of the Bible in tandem, and the emails we wake up to that were sent while the other was sleeping.

My struggle is surreal.

Ha! Well, praise the Lord, it is surreal today. Some days (if not most?) it is very real, very raw, very uncontrollable and painful. But today I pause to look at this day and wonder over the fact that it has been so dreaded for more than a year.

And my community is largely surreal.

Some friends check in more than others, and some people ask how I'm doing while others do not, but I almost always walk away from conversations in awe of the fact that I will never truly communicate the experience well. Unless you have experienced it, you, yes, you reading these words at this moment, have no idea what life is like. And even those of us who have been or are now in the thick of it lead such different lives that our take on things can be altogether opposite at times.

But this is reality: I am married to a man who is not here. Today is the 96th day that my heart has been moving or stationed away from me. I won't bore your with all the meals, holidays and big life events we've celebrated apart, but this is my life.

And it's weird.

Some days calling it weird would be cruel and grossly understated, but today it is just bizarre.

This is my life. And no one else understands exactly what it is like. In fact, it often seems that everyone else is moving along normally and treating me normally while I, in this snow globe called "deployment," am uselessly pantomiming the true state of my heart and life.

And the odd thing is, some days it becomes normal for me.

Such a growing experience, honestly, in giving grace. I pray my heart is this year softened toward those whose lives feel anything but normal.

Yet my hope is this, today and always, though feelings shift (sometimes swing): that Christ is near and fully aware, entirely understanding, thoroughly empathetic, perfectly compassionate.

Five Minute Friday: Open

2011-12-30T11:40:00.000-08:00

Five Minute Friday over at The Gypsy Mama:

GO.

Open.

Open heart.

Open year.

Open hands.

Open ears.

Open spaces.

Open wounds.

Open heart-ache.

Open tomb.

Open floodgates.

Open life.

Open glory.

Open flight.

Openness stirs so many movements in my heart today.

I think of my new, dear friend and so many of us struggling with what comes out of our open hearts as we figure out this thing called deployment.

I think of the year 2012 stretching out before us and all that the closing year has brought. What will You do, Lord, with the year that is now beginning? Do you laugh as we mark so momentously a year that seems as seconds to You?

As I write I'm looking at empty sippy cups left out for drying. When I am open, He fills me up. It may require cleaning out first, but He is faithful.

Overflow my open life, sweet Jesus, with all You are, all You have, all You desire. I could not be emptier on my own.

STOP.

no good thing

2011-12-28T18:49:00.000-08:00

Well, here we are again. You're reading. I'm wrestling.

And hopefully by the time we finish the Lord will have drastically moved my heart.

I am in desperate need of a heart-shift. Strike that. A heart transplant.

Lord, give me Your heart?

Deployment never ceases to clarify the tension in which we, as pursuers of Christ, are called to live. My current struggle is truly just a variation of some other struggle that I'm sure I've written about before. Ultimately I know what the remedy will be: the Gospel. But first the Lord is calling my heart out of the shadows of obscurity, into a place where diagnosis takes place, into the Light.

The last few days, perhaps for the last week, I have rushed through almost everything. Christmas vacation days could not come fast enough. Then the road trip to Orlando for Christmas could not pass quickly enough. Then emails, phone calls, and video chats with Stephen could not come often enough. The miles home could not be short enough. And now the week drags on as well, despite the fact that it was actually shortened by the holiday.

Unsettled. Discontent. Absent.

There were a few redeeming moments. I do tend to enjoy the evenings more than the afternoons and always more than the mornings. And time with my family was certainly blessed and refreshing. But overall I have been over-eager to cross days off my big calendar on the wall.

The first twinge of conviction came with the first chapter of Priscilla Shirer's "The Resolution for Women," a sweet Christmas gift from my in-laws. The first resolution is "Surprisingly Satisfied," so it's no wonder that I quickly found piercing lines like this:

"I recognized that by rushing through life, I'd been subtly devaluing those around me and the experiences I was involved in, not appreciating the importance and significance they bring to my life at this very moment, not grasping my responsibility for holding dear and treating well these gifts God has entrusted to me."

or like this:

"Then before you know it, you've missed out on the joys in the journey, the growth that comes from battling through the difficulties, the sweet and savory experience of creating the memories."

and questions like these:

"What have you been hurrying through? What have you been hurrying to get to?"

With these thoughts resonating in my mind through the Christmas weekend, I settled into the 7-hour drive home on Monday with a new book from my best friend, Tashi. It is called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. The theme of the book? Gratitude.

Ok, Lord. You want to teach me about contentment, grace, gratitude, joy. Please do! I'm miserable here.

My mind begins to process all the reasons why I should be actively grateful, constant in thanksgiving, cognizant of grace, etc.

But my heart is still so far behind.

Today is more of the same. I think part of the issue is the collision between expectations and reality. At certain times in my life I have lived with such a high view of eternity with Christ that anything here that happened to go well was nice, but not valued as the norm. Comparatively, everything on earth is infinitely unsatisfying.

Either way, after a longer day of work than I had anticipated, I came home to eat a frozen dinner (if you know me well this is probably the most shocking statement of this entire post). I realized that I had not yet hung up this week's deployment countdown card. The one I took down yesterday is in the shape of a pocket. On the back it reads: "Keep me in your pocket and memorize me! 'The Lord is good, a refuge when trouble comes. He is close to those who trust in him.' Nahum 1:7" I did, in fact, keep it in my pocket today. Thank you, sweet friend, who thought of this.

The card I moved to the current week space is for Week 38, Psalm 84:11.

"For the Lord God is a sun and shield;

the Lord bestows favor and honor.

No good thing does he withhold

from those who walk uprightly."

I've been living life, viewing life, valuing life, as though I am missing out on something that I deserve to have. The Lord did call me to marriage. This much I know for certain. But He also called my husband to the Army long before our marriage was in the picture. This being true, I am called to the Army as well.

Do I really believe that the Lord is not withholding any good thing from me right now?

Do I really grasp deep down, at the gut level, where all my emotions spring from, that God has allowed our separation because it is good?

Do I view it as a terrible thing that the Lord will redeem?

Or do I see it as a beautiful, if heart-wrenching, gift that He has offered to me?

Do I agree with His word that there is nothing good that He has not already given me?

It certainly depends on how I define the word "good." For that I turn to Romans 8:28-29: "For we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose...to be conformed to the image of His Son."

What is truly good is my conformity to the likeness of Jesus. If wrestling through Stephen's deployment is the best tool for that masterpiece that the Lord has at this point in my life, He would actually be unloving if He did not use it now. What is truly good is for me to have Jesus. So if realizing and rejoicing in my desperation for Christ is the aim of this deployment, it is the sweetest gift and highest good the Lord could give.

I realize this could sound maniacal or despotic, but verse 32 of Romans 8 brings it all into proper perspective: "He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?"

God has not given me His most treasured Son only to deny me of lesser good now.

Such truth is unbearably difficult to feel at times, but how I long to be in that place!

Can I see it as a gift? Not only deployment, but every other part of life that seems on the surface to be a frustration, a waste, a heartache, a hurdle, an obstacle, a loss?

Can I please have Gospel-eyes to recognize that I lack no. good. thing?

Oh! How I do not want to waste this year! Whether it meets my expectations for productivity or not, I want to savor every good thing the Lord brings in and through it.

My entire being wrestles with this tension. I miss Stephen. Separation is a gift. It is good for me to have a husband. It is best for me to be away from him for a time.

Lord, let this only whet my appetite for Your return. Let my heart live constantly in the tension between fruitful labor on earth and the deepest desire to be with You.

I may not be in the Garden

But the lie is still the same

That happiness awaits me

Just beyond what You have named

Crafty serpent, sinful heart

Such a deadly combination

Kill, steal and destroy my joy

Restless gripe of aggravation

Pull me upward now to You

As Jesus' tree of death allows

Serves as reminder of Your heart

You gave all then, You give good now

Give me a heart to live

Out of knowing this is true

So that my heart becomes a blessing

To those around me, first to You

Five Minute Friday: Connected

2011-12-16T12:40:00.000-08:00

When I realized that today was Friday, Five Minute Friday, I got so excited! So, straight from The Gypsy Mama, herself: Connected.

Ready? Go!

Connected.

For now, nothing entirely deep comes to mind. Only gratitude.

Gratitude for the internet. Gratitude for video-enabled laptop computers. Gratitude for iPhones and airplanes that carry mail across oceans.

My husband is deployed, but because the Lord has graciously allowed us to experience deployment in this technologically saturated era, I get to see his face nearly every day. I can upload videos of his family and friends sending him greetings on a little device that fits in my pocket. I can spend $13 on a package full of Christmas goodies that will (Lord-willing) reach him any day now.

Though a common love for the Lord and subsequently for each other binds us deeper than any wealth of communication ever could, I am so grateful for the added measure of grace that we have these days.

And when Stephen and I are not connecting well, and even when we are, I am grateful for a Savior who came to earth, lived what we live, and died an unjust death, so that we might be connected to Him forever.

this day last year...

2011-12-11T19:25:00.000-08:00

...Stephen Kump asked me to marry him, and what a sweet year it has been!

If you missed that part of our lives or, more likely, had no idea I blogged at the time, I would love for you to check out my original post about our relationship and Stephen's proposal: i get to marry Stephen Kump? you're kidding.

Grateful for the ways in which the Lord has loved us and grown us over the last year, and I pray that this day next year will come even faster and bearing greater evidence of the Lord's work and glory in our lives.

And another huge "Thank you!" to Mr. Andy Jones for capturing the moment. He's a stud.

Five Minute Friday: Color

2011-12-09T11:28:00.000-08:00

In the last several weeks I have mused over a blogging phenomenon called Five Minute Friday that trends on Twitter. Originating at The Gypsy Mama blog, at least one hundred writers spend five minutes on the topic of the day "Let's just write without worrying if it's just right or not." No editing, backtracking or over-thinking.

So, for five minutes I, along with many other bloggers, have reflected on Color today. Check out The Gypsy Mama and join in!

Color.

This morning on my way down to the parking deck, the sky was ablaze. Beautiful pinks, oranges, gold, blue, all set behind the trees whose color was waiting to be illuminated. Glorious.

Naturally the impression it made on an artist's heart lingers still. And the poignancy comes in the fresh truth that hope is alive, mercies are new, and the Lord is faithful.

Just when I feel as though I am heading into another gray day, the Lord paints the sky for those who are early to rise. And that's the beauty of the sun, or any light really. Nothing illuminated today has any color of its own apart from the light. The clouds were just clouds until the sun rose.

In the same way, my heart is just a heart until the Light of heaven dawns and fills it with richness, love and joy. My life is just another life until the brightness of the Son brings warmth and passion.

"A thrill of hope,

The weary world rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!"

writing things out

2011-12-06T18:01:00.000-08:00

Rest, You say,

But it's so hard

Too tired to rest for real

I'm up and I'm down

Always "on" never off

Can You tell me which wounds need to heal?

They all feel raw

Open for trouncing

Stretched thin to the point that they fray

Realize it or not

My heart has to cope

With this grief every minute each day

Get behind every thought

Get behind every tear

To what's really happening inside

It's all just a blur

All pent up within

I could not make sense if I tried

Nobody knows

Though some come close

But no one knows just how I feel

It's not their marriage

It's not their life

Not their separation to deal

And now You whisper

I knew You would

You do when I offer my all

It is Your marriage

Mine is Your life

This is us obeying Your call

I don't like it

I said it

I don't like it one bit

And You know

And it's fine

And you handle my fit

It's my heart

Not fake smiles

That You always pursue

I bring ugly

But honest

And give it to You

And Your voice is so tender

It melts my poor heart

As I've laid all I have at Your feet

You take ugly and honest

And cover with grace

And still Your abundance is wholly replete

You don't work with "ok"

No tools for "I'm fine"

So useless is "I'm good, and you?"

I must see my need

Not just see but admit

So that You can give mercies all new

I'm deficient alone

No clue what to do

I'm really just no good at this

For whatever reason

I trust that You have

There's something You won't let us miss

So we're here

And I'm grateful

You know that's no lie

It's so hard

But still good

Despite buckets I cry

But the point
You keep saying

Is how good I am not

And how

By sharp contrast

You've vanquished my rot

That I'm clueless

And hopeless

When considered alone

But You're holy

Victorious

King on the throne

King in my heart

King of this day

Not King far away and aloof

And what better time

To remember Your love

You came down as a babe to give proof

Free to be me

Because You give You

No longer defined by my plight

The deeper my weakness

The more room for You

To display the great power of Your might

Well, here You go!

Display away!

Weaker I may never have been

Still my heart is Your canvas

I trust Your scarred hands

For Your glory my all. With love, Katie Lynn

"Return, O my soul, to your rest;

for the Lord has dealt bountifully with You."

Psalm 116:7

the creative process

2011-12-05T12:38:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite blogs to follow is Take Your Vitamin Z, generally a collection of other good posts to read, funny videos, and book reviews.

Today he posted a video about the creative process. Encouraging and challenging.

Ira Glass on Storytelling from David Shiyang Liu on Vimeo.

a brief commentary on Twilight

2011-12-05T12:32:00.000-08:00

This is at least my third attempt at writing about my bewilderment over the Twilight phenomenon. But really the issue is simple.

The story line of the Twilight Saga is fully opposite the Gospel in every aspect.

Edward is a deceptively beautiful, blood-thirsty vampire who is inexplicably in love with someone good. Jesus is the truly beautiful, Son of God and Creator who is gloriously loving toward everyone who is bad.

Despite Edward's love for Bella and self-denial, his deepest desire is to drink her blood. Although God is ultimately concerned only for His own glory, that pursuit has brought about salvation for all who believe.

While we would like to see ourselves in the role of Bella, the good girl who attracts and straightens out the bad boy, the Gospel says that we are not at all good. Jesus, in all His goodness, has loved us out of darkness and into light.

Add to all of this the lack of ambition for life, and you have three central characters who are living for nothing more than the Greco-Roman myth of romantic love. They are consumed by their feelings and desire only personal gratification through the realization of a complicated, romantic relationship. No noble pursuits add depth of character. Rather, two men who are living to claim and enjoy the affection of one woman have been glorified by the masses known as members of "Team Edward" and "Team Jacob."

So, there's my post on Twilight. Read it. Watch it. Enjoy it if you enjoy it. It merely fascinates me that a phenomenon with these undertones has so strongly gripped the popular culture. Anything so appealing to the masses deserves a critical eye. Have I given it the most scrupulous? Not quite. But it is what it is.

"the DNA of joy is thankfulness"

2011-11-25T08:09:00.000-08:00

Happy Thanksgiving from the Kumps!

Stephen and I both enjoyed the day as much as possible given the circumstances.

My parents, Nate and I went to two Thanksgiving meals:

Lunch with my mom's extended family:

And dinner with the Kumps:

Stephen got to drive (or at least sit on) a local "car" in between his two Thanksgiving meals and a trip to the mall:

We have so much to be grateful for, not only this year for Thanksgiving, but every single day. Topping the charts right now:

--That we are separated for our first year of holidays in marriage. I am grateful to not know what we're missing out on by not being together.

--That our families love each other so much. It is so sweet to have one big family, especially this year. I am sure logistics will get more and more complicated as the years go by, but what a blessing it was to have both our families together for the holiday! It is such an undeserved, unearned, gracious gift of God that our families love us and each other so well. Thank you, Mommy and Daddy, Mom and Dad, for taking such good care of us!

The Lord gave me this prayer a few years ago along with a little melody to keep it lodged in my heart. It was perfect for yesterday, a day of celebration that was mixed with sadness.

Let Your love be enough for me

Show my heart You're my only need

Let Your truth abolish every lie

Let Your love saturate my life

"Contentment celebrates grace. The contented heart is satisfied with the Giver and is therefore freed from craving the next gift." --Paul Tripp

priorities

2011-11-19T18:13:00.000-08:00

With only one more month of Autumn left, it seems that time is dragging on quickly.

On the one hand the first month and a half has not seemed too bad overall. The weeks go quickly so that Sunday is already hours away. Another week comes off the countdown as we look into another week to come.

On the other hand, especially as Stephen has yet to reach his final destination, the thought of doing these seven weeks seven (ish) more times is staggering. But we only have to handle one day at a time, right?

So the question has become, how do I fill those days?

Everyone has lovingly advised me to stay busy while Stephen is gone. Mission accomplished. I have been busy. Very busy. And if you know me well, you know that busy is not my finest suit. I am a home-body, laid-back, down-time-dependent human being (I mean, the apple doesn't fall far...). As an introvert and the daughter of Sally Lawrence, I have neither the mental, emotional or physical stamina required for constant doing. My mind and body literally revolt when I push too hard.

Unfortunately, that is what I have been doing for much of the last seven weeks. For five of them I was battling a sore throat and smoker's cough. Cleaning out the air filter in our condo this past week has helped enormously, but lack of sleep and meals out or on the go have crippled my body's ability to heal.

The issue certainly has not been frivolous activity. I have spent time with so many people I care about, learning about and spreading awareness about issues in our city, loving on my favorite 18-month-old, celebrating a wedding and several new babies, walking with friends and taking college girls to fro you, making new friends and welcoming them into circles of old friends (which may have necessitated my participation in a Twilight marathon), movie nights with Nate and cooking dinner for his roommates, dinner and chick flicks with Lauren and Maggie, writing on various projects and jobs, and occasionally doing laundry or cleaning the floors. Whew. It has been crazy.

And as I have regularly emailed Stephen updates on all that's going on, he sees better than anyone just how hectic my schedule has become. I am grateful for technology that keeps us up to speed on each other's lives, and I am even more grateful for his leadership in helping me see that my current patterns are not sustainable for a productive, healthful year (or life post-deployment for that matter). More than that, he has been quick to point out that this is not who God made me to be. I have some amazing friends who do everything under the sun and do it well. I love seeing the Lord work through them! But at times my appreciation for their ability to do this morphs into a copy-cat complex of some sort and I find myself running the rat-race of comparison. Stephen knows me. He knows me really well, and he has for a long time. If not for that, he would not be able to lead me out of this identity crisis and into real life. I could not be married to anyone else.

You see, while most people at least know that I nanny, many don't realize that it is, in fact, a full-time job. I work 45 hours a week in a salaried child-care position under a contract that allows for sick days and vacation days and prohibits me from smoking in the house or around the child. Granted, circumstances frequently allow me to leave a little early, but for planning purposes, 45 hours of my week are filled every week, no matter what. And honestly, I have to remind myself of these facts frequently; when you enjoy your job as much as I do, it's easy to think it doesn't take up as much of your time as it does. So it isn't a bad thing, but taking care of Juliet is my work and it is the main thing I do in this stage of my life.

In light of this revelation, that her care and development are a focal point of my ministry and not just an opportunity I have because she is my job, I am free to slow down in my "extracurricular" endeavors. For as long as I am called to care for Juliet, I will need to limit myself after work so that I can be my best for her. A tired, sick, run-down "Daydee" is not what either of us needs.

Realizing that I can only do a few more things well outside of work, I have been praying that the Lord would bring to the forefront His priorities for my time. Much to my surprise, though it does not seem to surprise anyone else, writing is the one thing He keeps bringing up. No particular people to invest in or causes to take up; no new hobbies or personal goals to pursue. Writing. This is it. Other than pursuing a handful of close friends, Juliet and writing are my priorities for the year.

And I am so excited!!

What does this mean? Within the next week I will finish up my first writing "assignment" and pour myself wholeheartedly into writing the last 94 wedding gift thank yous. I have also almost completed a compilation of poetry from the last decade. To publish? Not to publish? Eh, we'll see! And then, Lord willing, I will turn my attention to writing a book for girls younger than me--things I wish I had known before now.

So here I am, at the end of a day that was over-planned, at the end of a week that was over-planned, sitting in my pajamas on the couch doing what I was made to do. I'm grateful for the freedom to do this.

"Better is a handful of quietness than two hands full of toil and a striving after wind." Ecclesiastes 4:6

...mmmmmmm...

proud of this man

2011-11-13T15:23:00.000-08:00

Until last year Veterans' Day came and went for me. Thanks for serving. No big deal.

Needless to say, this year it's a huge deal!

So much to be grateful for on this commemorative weekend:
--For the men and women who have given their lives for the preservation of ours.
--For the blessing of marrying one of these selfless men, and not just any of them, Stephen Kump.
--For the good things that have already come from his current deployment: friendships, opportunities, personal growth and growth in our marriage.
--For the advances in technology that have revolutionized the deployment experience.
--For video calling through Gchat in particular which has allowed us to see each other as we've talked almost every day for the last week--FOR FREE!
--For the love of God that made a much bigger sacrifice to, not only preserve life but to recreate what was dead in sin.
--For the opportunity to know Him more deeply, closely, sweetly in times of need.

More to come soon, lots of life going on and so many things the Lord is doing in and through Stephen and me and this special time. But for now I'll leave you with some pictures of my handsome soldier. I am so proud of him...did I mention that?

flood warning

2011-10-31T18:57:00.000-07:00

This may be bad.

This may be really, really bad.

But I've warned you now, and that's all I can do.

Today, this sucks. It really does.

I don't even like that term, but I can't work my way around it. "This stinks" just isn't cutting it today. Sorry.

I'm alone. And I'm crying. And I can't stop.

I cry at the hard things. I cry at the sweet things. I cry because I hate it. And I cry because I would not change it. I cry because I miss Stephen. I cry because he is so worth missing. I cry because I am grateful that I miss him as much as I do. I cry because he feels the same way. I cry because the Lord is near. I cry because He keeps reminding me that I don't have to be good at this. I cry because He alone knows just how bad I am at it. I cry because I know it will get better with time. I cry because the thought of the time it will take is overwhelming. I cry because I feel like I should feel like I'm single again. I cry because that's about the last way I feel. I cry because I wish I knew how to handle social settings or meeting new people well. I cry because I almost dread it some days.

The trigger.

I guess the trigger was a text from Stephen today saying he had arrived at his overseas destination. Up until now he was training in the same time zone. If you have spent any time with me in the evenings over the last two months, you know that writing is not my typical 9pm activity. I would have been parting ways with you soon to talk to Stephen. But now he has (jet-lag permitting) been sleeping for several hours, and his will not be the last voice I hear tonight. Not live anyway.

And then I think about the last person I will have talked to today: the cashier at Kroger. And I cry some more.

Some days solitude is a double-edged sword. Today is one of those. I hate being alone and yet cannot imagine interacting with anyone else right now. I feel like I putter around the house, doing a little bit of everything, but not completing anything. Not that I don't have plenty to do.

If you have yet to receive a wedding gift thank you, rest assured, they are in the works. I have another writing job that I am excited to take on between now and Thanksgiving. I have been compiling all my poetry from the last decade.

I have enjoyed time with friends this month. My old small group got away to the lake one weekend.

We threw a baby shower for Darrah yesterday.

And Juliet keeps me great company.

Hanging out with my new friend, Cat, who nannies and whose husband is also away for a year, has been a huge highlight in these few weeks.

It's not boredom. I think I stay busy enough. It's just hard.

As I was thinking through an upcoming church social earlier this evening, I came to realize why I feel so out of place all of a sudden, especially at church. It has nothing to do with other people, though perhaps their love for both of us brings the emotions to the surface. It has more to do with the fact that Stephen is indeed my other half. And as cheesy as it sounds (I really tried not to say it, but it's true!), we are one person in two places. One heart, one flesh, one family. Two continents that might as well be two worlds.

And it's seeing the people who know us well that really undoes me. Because I know they look at me and see Stephen too. They can't look at me and not think about the reason he's not beside me or how long it will be until he is again. And whether they say something or not, I feel exposed and vulnerable and overwhelmed in all the ways I should, I suppose. And I am grateful the Lord has given me a heart that cannot hide, although I'll apologize again for all the times each of you will get a bucket full of tears because of it.

And it's funny how real it finally seems that we are one. Sad that it often does not feel as true in togetherness as it does in separation. But we both are praying that the things we learn this year will change how we view and value each other, our future family, and every other priority in our lives. It's almost a glimpse of the "if only"s we might have if one of us were to pass, so I'll be grateful that our opportunities to love each other well are, Lord willing, still a lifetime full.

Whew. So, the tears have stopped. I think that's all for tonight. Maybe my poor sinuses will have a chance to clear up before lights out.

One thing I heard in a short John Piper montage on YouTube last week has stuck with me. I won't get the quote exactly right, but as he is talking about the certainty of suffering in the Christian life he makes the distinction between what is miserable and what is painful. And though at times I am tempted to file this experience under Misery, I know that would not be true. It's painful. Ugh, it's frustratingly painful some days. And I feel like it would not be so bad if I just loved Jesus a little more, and that way of thinking serves only to perpetuate frustration.

But the pain is not misery because of the cross of Christ. Suffering is the primary way God's glory of salvation is revealed in the world--Jesus on the cross and my hope in suffering now. This is not futile misery; it is glory-rending pain.

And I pray the Lord gets enormous glory from it. No matter how much it hurts. No matter how many days ahead will feel like this one. No matter how many showers, meals, car rides, communions, or blog posts I have yet to cry through.

When all my tears have fallen

And my strength lies in their wet

When my heart is naught but frailty

Jesus, let me not forget!

Not only did Your tears fall

But Your sweat became as blood

As You gazed on separation

Cost of mercy's welling flood

But as Your tears led to glory

Please allow mine so to do

For every teardrop let one-thousand

"Hallelujah"s rise to You

And so it will all be worth it

Every mite of this sweet pain

If Your glory shines the brighter

Beauty bursting through the rain

learning how to deal

2011-10-20T12:14:00.000-07:00

For several months now I've been praying about how to "suffer" well throughout the year, and I have felt like "suffering" was an extreme word until this morning. As I was reading through a chapter in one of Tim Keller's most recent books, the Lord began to shed light on the balance I have been wrestling with. I want to embrace the sadness/frustration/pain of separation as the current reality that they are, but I want my hope to be set so fully on Christ that it is not the overarching theme of my life. It seems to be a tension between being real and giving church answers, facing difficulty and being ok with it, living for eternity and ignoring the present altogether.

I would like to quote several portions of this chapter entitled "The Cup" from King's Cross. Keller is explaining the agony of what Jesus felt the night before He died as He asked the Father to remove the cup of wrath from Him. Jesus has just experienced the first taste of the anguish our redemption will cost him, and Keller explains His agony in the Garden of Gethsemane.

Suffering happens, we might say, when there's a gap between the desires of your heart and the circumstances of your life, and the bigger the gap, the greater the suffering.

Often what seem to be our deepest desires are really just our loudest desires.

Yet not what I will, but what you will.Jesus is subordinating his loudest desires to his deepest desires by putting them in the Father's hands. As if to say, "If the circumstances of life do not satisfy the present desires of my heart, I'm not going to suppress those desires, but I'm not going to surrender to them, either. I know that they will only be satisfied, eventually, in the Father. I will trust and obey him, put myself in his hands, and go forward."

Jesus doesn't deny his emotions, and he doesn't avoid the suffering. He loves into the suffering. In the midst of his suffering, he obeys for the love of the Father--and for the love of us.And when you see that, instead of perpetually denying your desires or changing your circumstances, you'll be able to trust the Father in your suffering. You will be able to trust that because Jesus took the cup, your deepest desires and your actual circumstances are going to keep converging until they unite forever on the day of the eternal feast.

That love--whose obedience is wide and long high and deep enough to dissolve a mountain of rightful wrath--is the love you've been looking for all your life. No family love, no friend love, no mother love, no spousal love, no romantic love--nothing could possibly satisfy you like that. All those other kinds of loves will let you down; this one never will.

Praying to remember, reflect on, and digest this love as much as possible in the days, weeks, months to come. Grateful for the reminder and the revelation. I would highly recommend King's Cross, or any other by Tim Keller.

single ladies, this is what you're looking for

2011-10-17T18:07:00.000-07:00

Last Monday night as Lauren and I were sitting down to our first roommate dinner, a knock sounded at the door. Upon first glancing out the peep-hole I thought my brother and his roommates had come to visit. Four younger males--who else could it be?

To my surprise and great blessing, I actually found Michael James, Jeff Cheung, Harris Hosch and Tyler Eason outside my door. These four guys, along with a handful of others, were part of a discipleship group (d-group) that Stephen led from January to July of this year. Each of them is a student at Georgia Tech and a fraternity brother of Stephen's, and I have had a blast getting to know them over the course of the year.

These precious men did not come empty handed. Rather, they brought me a massive plate piled high with six dozen ish cookies and hand-written Scripture cards to go along with the dining room countdown theme. Tyler even wrote a letter.

They did not stay long, but in the few minutes they did they repeatedly voiced their gratitude, love and willingness to serve me at any time in the coming year. Needless to say, my heart was overwhelmed by gratitude for their thoughtfulness.

Two take-aways from this:

1. Ladies, look for men like these who are on the look-out for ways to care for women, even married women, in selfless ways. These are men who will truly know how to deeply love just one woman for the rest of their lives.

And 2. I am so grateful for Stephen and for his legacy that blesses me in his absence. The Lord uses him in unending ways to bring me back to the throne of grace in praise and gratitude.

The Lord continues to make it evident that He intends to answer my prayers and then some. A few months ago, as I began to realize that this year is an infinitely bigger deal for me and Stephen than for anyone else (although our parents certainly come close and are always thinking and praying), I asked the Lord that He would always remind just one person about me. As much as my heart sometimes feels like it needs everyone to think about me all the time, I just prayed that at least one person would be remembering at any given time. Guess He thought that was asking too small.

Thank you, d-group ~~guys~~ men, for caring for me. We love y'all too. It has been such an undeserved privilege to serve you this year.

And thank you to each of you who are reading. You have no idea how much the Lord blesses your comments, your texts, your calls and your simple prayers. He is using you to go above and beyond what I ask or imagine.

Grateful to report that another week has passed. More updates soon on what is keeping me busy, but for now the scripture from Week 51, Psalms 16:1-4a:

"Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.

I say to the Lord, 'You are my Lord;

I have no good apart from you.'

As for the saints in the land, they are the excellent ones,

in whom is all my delight.

The sorrows of those who run after another god shall multiply."

"Stut!"

2011-10-14T11:48:00.000-07:00

Impatiently squirming to get out of her high chair, Juliet moans: "Stut!"

Reaching for the ground because she is finished swinging: "Stut!"

Unhappy about time-out in my lap after standing up on the couch: "Stut!"

My reply, "You're not stuck, baby."

Funny how perspective changes everything.

As Juliet's vocabulary has grown, she has learned this word associated with limited movement in a place she does not want to be. We are still anxiously waiting for her little mouth to pronounce the "-ck" sound, but her version of this word is substituted multiple times a day.

It first struck a chord in me one day as she wiggled around in her high chair. I always try to explain to her what her reality truly is. "No, sweet girl, you're not stuck. You're in your chair where it's safe and you're able to eat. Katie will get you down."

Funny how these safe and perfectly positioned places seem to her to be nothing more than a frustrating trap in certain moments of strife. Though the high chair is the easiest, simplest place for her to eat, and though the swing is the safest, most fun carrier for such a playground activity, and though sitting still in my lap is the best thing for her character and personal development after a bout of rebellion, they are often to her an annoyance, a stressor, and a position to be fought and escaped from with every ounce of energy in her baby girl body.

I recently can relate to her.

Every part of me is fighting in some way against the position, the discipline and the goodness of the Lord in this season of life. I see parts of what He is doing, and I want Him to have His way, but my soul has been restless, squirmy and "stut" in a place I do not want to be.

Same as Juliet, I would love to wriggle loose and be on my own at times, or at least I think I do. But what I cannot see is His perspective on where He has positioned me. Uncomfortable as it may be, and although I would likely not choose it on my own, He has situated, elevated, constrained and prepared me for something much better than what I can see. And to fidget away from the strong arms of my Father would mean falling, regressing, missing out on all He has in store for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose.

Maybe Juliet and I can learn this lesson together.

Week 52

2011-10-14T11:46:00.000-07:00

Last Sunday I got to take down Week 52 from the kitchen countdown. The scripture written on it made for a time of prayer and reflection as I got ready to face another week.

Psalm 126:5-6 says:

"Those who sow in tears

shall reap with shouts of joy!

He who goes out weeping,

bearing the seed for sowing,

shall come home with shouts of joy,

bringing his sheaves with him."

Such a passage could not have possibly been more fitting for Sunday evening. Sundays are hard. Period.

Church without Stephen is hard.

Sabbath rest without Stephen is hard.

Staring down another week without Stephen is hard.

Crying in public is hard.

Sundays are just hard.

So when I read about tears and weeping I immediately connected. Ok, Lord. I've got the tears and weeping part down. No problem.

But I realized that the focus of these verses needed to be that the tears and weeping were not primary actions here. They are descriptors of the manner in which something else is done: sowing and bearing the seed.

What do You want me to sow? What seed have You given me to bear? What harvest are You plowing and sowing for?

Praying for direction, purpose and drive as I cry these tears for sowing over the next 51 weeks. Praying I go out intentionally. Praying the Lord brings a harvest of fruit one hundred fold of every tear I cry--that would be a truck load of fruit. And because I can imagine it, I know He will do even more.

in great company

2011-10-06T11:29:00.000-07:00

The end of Week 52 is inching closer. I have decided to countdown from 52 to 1 so I'll always know how much time is left. Grateful it will get smaller and smaller as the weeks go on!

To celebrate the passing of the weeks and Lauren's official settledness into life at the condo, we had a girls' night on Monday night, complete with cookies, candy, crafts and chick flicks. A very big THANK YOU to Julie Koon, Emily Schultz, Kimberly Johnson, Rene Schultz and Maggie Younker for helping to make a countdown calendar for the dining room window. We spent several hours crafting little cards to display, one to be removed for each week that Stephen is gone. Each unique card has a scripture reference on it, and I look forward to how the Lord has provided Truth for each of the weeks to come. The evening was a huge success and one more evidence of the fact that I have been given the greatest friends in the world. Thank you all so much!

Yesterday Juliet and I scooted down to Smyrna for a play date with Connor (3) and Lucy (13 months). Their dad is also deployed and their mom, Amanda, has been an incredible encouragement to me over the two short months that I have known her. We had a blast playing with their toys, walking in their neighborhood, rolling down the couch cushions and playing piano! It is so neat to watch great parents love and instruct their children, and I certainly had a front-row seat yesterday. I look forward to loving on and learning from this precious family in the months ahead! Praising the Lord for godly community to live this stage of life with.

And today I am praising Him for another new friend. I met Cat, a German nanny in the area, at the park last week, and Juliet and her charge enjoyed swinging together again today. As we talked about one day wanting children of our own, I told her the itch is not quite full-grown in me because Stephen is gone. Of course she said, "Then we are in the same boat!" Her husband deployed in April and will be gone until April 2012. She is new to Atlanta and lives about ten minutes from us. Her husband came home on R&R in September for their big wedding, and her mom is still in town from Germany for that reason. However, she said now that the wedding planning is over and when her mom leaves, she is nervous that she will have nothing to do as she does not have any friends here. We exchanged numbers and plan to be in touch after her mom goes back to Germany next week. I am so excited to spend time with Cat and hopefully introduce her to some of my friends. Please pray with me that this will become a meaningful relationship and one the Lord uses to draw each of us to Himself!

And, for the first time, having an almost-German last name was another good conversation starter. Who knew that "kumpf" means "fight," as in Hitler's MEIN KAMPF? Fantastic! I have never been more glad that someone, somewhere along the way, dropped that "f"!

The Lord has given me so many opportunities to share this experience with people who love Him and love me, and I could not be more grateful for that. Thank you all for reading this far and for keeping up with me. Please know that I look forward to the Lord's glory and use of this deployment to strengthen my heart and those of the people around me. As such, I know there will be days when some of you will ask how Stephen or I am doing and I will burst into tears and drench you with honesty. I apologize in advance if that will make you uncomfortable, but please know I would prefer that to shallow conversation any day of the week. I think that will be more of a rare occurrence than the norm, but I would rather be real and let the real strength of Christ be displayed than pretend I am fine. So unless you would just rather avoid the small threat of water works, I welcome deep questions and meaningful conversation. Glory to God!

And oh yeah! Stephen is doing well! He and the guys are thoroughly enjoying the goodies his mom packed on Sunday. The only disappointing news is that he is sleeping in barracks with about 20 other guys. Fortunately he has ear plugs, but he says sleep would be impossible without them for the absurd volume created by almost two dozen men snoring in unison. Please continue to pray for his relationships and for the Lord's direction as he moves toward his mission.

the big day

2011-10-02T18:57:00.000-07:00

Today was the big day, and I feel there is at once so much to say and yet no words for all that I am thinking and feeling. The Lord blessed it on so many levels on the homefront, and I can only pray He does the same for Stephen as he is away. After the send-off ceremony and the departure of the buses, my family and Stephen's parents took me to brunch at the Cheesecake Factory where Marisa Acree and Katie Phillips joined by surprise. I had the privilege of spending the remainder of the day with them and Kimberly Johnson in a very successful attempt to postpone my own solo homecoming.

Just a few of the random things going on in my mind:

Grateful that the day I have dreaded for nearly six months is over.

Grateful to start the countdown to next October.

Grateful for all your prayers and encouragement.

Praying for Stephen who has truly been led out into solitude with the Lord.

And while I wish I had more meaningful words or insights of my own, the Lord's grace overwhelms me at every turn. I had previously purposed to read through the "Streams in the Desert" devotional over the year that Stephen is away and was reminded of it by a conversation with our moms this morning. Unfortunately I cannot take any credit for the poem that accompanied today's short reading, but I'll be darned if God does not somehow bless these sorts of books so that October 2nd was exactly what I needed it to be. I think He must shuffle them around among the pages so that the right one pops up whenever I open it. So of course as I climbed into bed alone tonight, He met me here:

Come with me by yourselves and rest awhile,

I know you're weary of the stress and throng,

Wipe from your brow the sweat and dust of toil,

And in My quiet strength again be strong.

Come now aside from all the world holds dear,

For fellowship the world has never known,

Alone with Me, and with My Father here,

With Me and with My Father, not alone.

Come, tell Me all that you have said and done,

Your victories and failures, hopes and fears.

I know how hardened hearts are wooed and won;

My choicest wreaths are always wet with tears.

Come now and rest; the journey is too great,

And you will faint beside the way and sink;

The bread of life is here for you to eat,

And here for you the wine of love to drink.

Then from fellowship with your Lord return,

And work till daylight softens into even:

Those brief hours are not lost in which you learn

More of your Master and His rest in Heaven.

Happy Half-iversary!

2011-09-26T12:10:00.000-07:00

Today marks the halfway mark on our first year of marriage, and because I am looking for anything and everything to celebrate these days, I thought I'd post a few pictures for kicks and giggles. Many of you have been tracking with us for as long as these pictures have been around (some much longer), but in case you missed it, here we are:

Our first picture together, and possibly our longest conversations up to that point: Theta Xi Broomball, December 2005

One year later at AXO's Crush Party.

Our first kiss six months ago.

Our first Tech game as The Kumps this past Saturday.

Praising the Lord for 6 months of sweet time together and grace in the growing!

just the cover page

2011-09-23T13:35:00.000-07:00

It started with a tree in a Garden

And the man you first made there to toil

Adam was his name

Procreation was his aim

As he broke and conquered all Your handmade soil

But Adam failed and ate the tree You said to not

He ate the lie and turned his back on Love

Sin broke the life and joy

Death's sneaky, wicked ploy

And Tree of Life no more could he lay hold of

So Your first plan was postponed indefinitely

As restitution was required to move forward

Necessary better Adam

Your Son would humbly come

The One all Heaven worshiped and adored

And where first Adam should have died on evil tree

For his choice to be the ruler of his life

Perfect Jesus now would die

Both in Adam's place and mine

As the cross became His tree of death and strife

Now because He rose again and rose to You

He will come one day to fulfill Your greater plan

Because a Garden was not all

You have a city strong and tall

Built 'round the Tree of Life where life began

Where first Adam chose death but did not die

Second Adam obeyed even to the cross

Though Adam's task met with defeat

Jesus' victory will complete

His blood the fire that purges all sin's dross

And it's not until we reach that final city

That all You have in store will be unveiled

This life is just the cover page

For greater glories come each new age

Sun not needed as Your beauty is detailed

The Martins: DIY Laundry Detergent

2011-09-23T11:49:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I made my first ever batch of Do-It-Yourself Laundry Detergent. I have really enjoyed it and want to pass it along, but I took it from my friend Megan Martin's blog so you should check it out there. She did such a great job with taking pictures and figuring up the savings that I didn't feel the need to re-do all her great work. :)

The Martins: DIY Laundry Detergent: It's official.. I have finally jumped on the bandwagon for making my own laundry detergent. I was so skeptical at first, but after doing it...

fear and hope

2011-09-21T14:31:00.000-07:00

For the last two months almost I have been reading through Peter's first letter over and over again. Some days I read the entire letter, other days I read a few verses, and though I have enjoyed it and feasted on it all along, the Lord in recent weeks has been highlighting phrases that capture my thoughts and nestle into my soul.

At the end of Peter's address to wives he instructs them, "do not fear anything that is frightening." (3:6)

"Do not fear anything that is frightening."

So he is saying that there are things that are frightening. Rational, legitimate circumstances, individuals and powers that are rightly terrifying. It may seem redundant at first to tell someone not to be scared of things that are scary. Who would be afraid of something that is not? Right? But Peter is gentle enough to affirm that these women may have justifiable fears. It is one thing to say, "Do not fear because there is nothing to fear." Such a statement sounds demeaning, belittling. Almost as if to say, "You don't really get it; if you knew what I know you would understand that this is not really frightening."

Instead, he confirms the reality of dreadful things while requiring that they not be given power.

Dwelling on this phrase probed my heart for hidden fears. Some are big, some are small, and some are stupid, but here they are:

Fear of Stephen not coming home.
Fear of annoying or alienating him or others.
Fear of all our electronics breaking while he is gone.
Fear of being alone and unknown.
Fear of physical harm by random, evil men.

As I looked at my list the first time I realized how much I have given in to fear lately. The Lord graciously backed me up a few verses from the current instruction to not fear. What an overwhelming task to simply stopping being fearful of all these things I cannot control. But this command is at the end of a more saturated paragraph than just a suggestion to muster up unfearfulness.

In describing how Christian women are to befit themselves, Peter says, "let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious. For this is how the holy women who hoped in God used to adorn themselves, by submitting to their own husbands, as Sarah obeyed Abraham, calling him lord. And you are her children, if you do good and do not fear anything that is frightening."

Now, there are so many little bits of this passage that I could pick apart and turn into a list of rules and regulations, but I am so deeply convicted by just one key phrase: "the holy women who hoped in God."

You see, in order to fear something, and I mean really fear it, I must value it at a premium, considering that its loss would fundamentally challenge or change who I am or my life's purpose and trajectory. Whatever I fear is a reflection of the desires of my heart and its true allegiance. Whatever I most fear losing is what I am hoping for above all else.

When I reexamine my list of fears, it is easy to see what my heart is hungering for most: Stephen, the approval of people, safety and ease.

Not to say these desires are all bad; they are not. But they are far too transient and uncontrollable to hope for. Would you not agree?

Which is why the descriptor hoped in God is so relevant, so poignant and so true. These women were not perfect by any measurement, but they were sold on the faithfulness and promise of their God, and the overflow of their hope in Him painted everything in their lives with glory. Peter touches on two other specific areas of life that are revolutionized by hope in Christ before he addresses fear.

He first points to the heart, the spirit within, the source from which all of life flows. Jen Smidt at The Resurgence expounded on "a gentle and quiet spirit" the other day. I found it both helpful and challenging:

Gentle does not mean mousy or weak. It does mean strength derived from and under the control of the Holy Spirit. The default response of our hearts is often harshness. It feels powerful and usually gets the job done. Children and husbands alike can be effectively and sinfully shut down by a harsh word or glance. A gentle woman will trust her Father’s provision, identify with the righteousness of Christ, and be filled with the Holy Spirit to such a degree that she will be known for her strength that shines brightly for God’s glory alone.

Quiet does not mean silent or without opinion. It does mean without noise. Quietness in our hearts is drowned out by the cacophony of voices of fear, worry, anger, and doubt. Difficult circumstances or trials turn up the volume and we succumb to the chaos. We lose the voice of Jesus in the midst of the cacophony. Peace prevails and rest ensues when we are quieted before our Savior and listen for his voice alone. Out of that quietness, the words of our mouths will be fitting, life-giving, and pleasing to God.

(Read the rest of her article here.)

The second arena is a woman's heart for her husband, an often debated stature for sure. Peter explains that the inner spirit of these God-hopeful women led them to submit to their husbands. Much could be said about how this directive is to be worked out in the practical aspects of marriage, but I believe that the woman whose hope is in God is willing and obedient in submitting to her husband because she trusts wholly in the provision of her heavenly Groom, Jesus. A heart of gratitude and submission to Christ reveals itself through humbly offering respect and deference to the other human heart it has been called to follow. This heart has relinquished the idols of control, always-being-right-ness and manipulation in exchange for the role of supporter, encourager and friend. I may not always be in the background and shadow of Stephen's public life, and I rarely feel that I am, but I pray I am always willing to be. I pray my heart toward him is soft and selfless in light of the Gospel.

Part of my submission to Stephen is this calling to the Army way of life. I have been called to be Stephen's wife, and as such I am also called to the military. If I am honest, I must admit I fight the calling regularly. Overall, I feel that I have settled with deployment, knowing that this is what God wants for us. But I want to nit-pick the inner workings of this organization and rehearse in my mind its inefficiencies far too often to honestly claim full submission. I pray I will relinquish my grip on the comfort and ease it disturbs so that my heart may engage in the greater mission of reaching this lost part of the world.

Having dealt already with fear, my attention is turned back to hope.

The Greek word used here is elpizō meaning "to wait for salvation with joy and full confidence."

I pray I will be a holy woman who "waits for salvation with joy and full confidence" in God alone, a daughter of Sarah. Sarah, who frequently doubted and "improved" upon God's plan, is remembered as a holy woman for her expectation that God would do what He said He would do.

My God has obtained, offered and promised the newness of all of life by the giving, slaying and rising of His Son. What more could be offered as the foundation for all of my hope? The answer is nothing, and I pray my heart always answers correctly.

babies and bugs

2011-09-17T19:03:00.000-07:00

The week has certainly had highs and lows for us, like any other, I suppose.

On Tuesday night I had the joy of celebrating with our dear friends and former roommates, Jon and Julie Koon, as they welcomed their firstborn son, Elliot Thomas Koon. He was born 9lbs 11oz, 20.75 inches long at 12:13am. Marisa, Rene and I were able to visit much later in the day, and we are so excited to love on this little guy for the rest of his life! (picture coming soon!)

Early Wednesday morning I woke up with a stomach bug that kept me from work and everything else through Saturday. My sweet mom came up Wednesday afternoon and spent the night to take care of me. So grateful for her! It was the first time I had really considered that Stephen will probably miss a few more bouts of sickness. Not having him at home was harder than I would have imagined beforehand, but we are both so thankful for nearby family and friends who are so quick to take care of me. Even before my mom came Lauren went to the store for crackers and Gatorade. I could not ask for a sweeter roommate. Please join me in praying that I have not spread the plague to either of them!

Last Sunday was the first day that the reality of separation set in. Stephen and I found ourselves spending the afternoon resting together after church even before we were engaged. Kimberly Johnson accompanied me to church to take the edge off of that aspect of loneliness, but it was the stillness of the afternoon that really caught me by surprise. I would so appreciate your prayers that the Lord's presence be especially tangible in those moments, both for me and for Stephen.

And speaking of Stephen, he is hanging in through these weeks of training. Unfortunately we cannot so broadly publish the details of his schedule and location, but we expect he'll be home for several days in about a week! Please continue to pray that the Lord will provide a believing or interested companion for this deployment. The military environment is typically a spiritually dry one, but we pray for some sort of saturation however the Lord sees fit. In the meantime, feel free to drop Stephen a line at any time at kump.stephen@gmail.com.

Tomorrow I have a meeting with the FRG (Family Readiness Group) for our Troop. I am so grateful for the women the Lord has provided through this organization. They are the Army wives, girlfriends and mothers who know so much more than I do about the system, whether they have experienced deployment before or not. Please pray for opportunities to love and serve them well tomorrow and in the difficult weeks to come.

my second marriage

2011-09-13T12:25:00.000-07:00

As I laid me down to sleep

Last night I prayed the Lord would keep

Husband and marriage near His heart

To gently craft this work of art

Yet in the stillness as I lay

His whispered voice did softly say

"Remember, Kate, our wedding day,

How I was first your fiance."

As dawned the sweetest memories of

Two decades' worth of Savior love

I sighed a smile of peaceful rest

Nestled on my Husband's chest

Though silly daylight makes it sound

I treasure this dear thought profound

That I was wed at young age 4

To Jesus Christ forevermore

And twenty years into new life

God fit me to be Stephen's wife

And He will fit us ever still

To toil and relish His bright will

So near or far, home or deployed

We've greater hopes to be enjoyed

Beyond this momentary grace

When Jesus Groom is face to face

today's feast

2011-09-06T13:09:00.000-07:00

Stephen left early this morning for the last stint of his state-ordered training. He will have one more week at home at the end of September (we think/hope), but thus begins the "single wife" season as Lauren moves in today and I start to figure out a new rhythm for life.

We spent a wonderful long weekend at the beach with his parents, sisters, brother-in-law, nephews and Granny. I cannot think of a better way we could have used those last few days together. We had a blast with family and 16 sweet hours together road-tripping.

Grief did not truly set in until we turned out the light last night. There are certainly times when I dread doing things by myself, like going to church, taking care of my car, things with other couples. But the over-arching sentiment is always simple sadness over missing Stephen. Incredible how quickly and thoroughly he has become my best friend and my better half. These tears wet my pillow as we fell asleep together one more time last night.

Today, however, I am praising the Lord for mercies that come new every morning!

"Give us this day our daily bread..."

Joy. Purpose. Peace.

Today I am feasting on Christ, overwhelmed by His provision over my heart and soul. I am overflowing with gratitude for the precious people who have texted, called, emailed and prayed. I am looking forward to eating frozen yogurt for dinner, helping Lauren move in, spending time with the friends I've missed so much, and finding a new routine for a new season.

I almost feel guilty. The temptation is there. I feel like I should be crying my eyes out, hypersensitive, wanting to remind everyone how hard this is. But today just is not hard. Miraculously, graciously, affectionately not a challenge.

So I'll take it!

And when the temptation creeps back in to borrow tomorrow's difficulty, or Christmas's or July's, I am reminded of the Israelites gathering manna in the wilderness. In response to their cries of starvation in the desert, the Lord gives them bread from heaven each morning to satisfy their needs throughout the day. The bread, called "manna," was to be used as the Lord instructed:

"'Gather of it, each one of you, as much as he can eat...' And the people of Israel did so. They gathered, some more, some less...whoever gathered much had nothing left over, and whoever gathered little had no lack. Each of them gathered as much as he could eat. And Moses said to them, 'Let no one leave any of it over till the morning.' But they did not listen to Moses. Some left part of it till the morning, and it bred worms and stank...Morning by morning they gathered it, each as much as he could eat..." Exodus 16

Today I have a hunger, and the Lord has satiated it completely. To worry about tomorrow or the coming year as a whole would be to hoard a year's worth of worries to fit under one day's worth of grace. Today's grace is sufficient for today. And as hard and strenuous as some of the approaching days will be, they will not come alone; they will come with a full portion of all-sustaining grace.

Stephen's mom, Loette, was also sweetly encouraging this weekend. She has also faced the challenges of deployment in different phases of life, and I am overwhelmingly grateful to be so close to someone who has shared this burden. She said it can be tempting to view this deployment as something to "get over" before we can move on with the rest of our lives, especially given that we have not quite been married six months yet. But what she said next, and what I must continually be reminded of, is that deployment is now and it is life. This is the purpose for which we were married, this is the calling we have been given, this is where our vows and our prayers of commitment to God and to each other meet reality.

And that excites me! We are one flesh no matter where our bodies are located, and we have been uniquely called to this time and place and mission to know God more and to make Him known. Praise the Lord for giving us hard things to do!

Now, that does not mean that I will relish every moment Stephen is away, or that I don't sometimes hope the next 13 months pass quickly. We did get married for a reason, in hopes that we would actually spend our lives together, and to deny that desire would be an indicator of hearts set askew. But there is overwhelming hope and joy in the presence of Christ and the good news of His gospel, that this life and this marriage are not about us or our happiness, and can therefore be beneficiaries of the hardship we expect in the year we have just begun.

Song of the week: "O Love That Will Not Let Me Go" by Indelible Grace

O Joy that seekest me through pain

I cannot close my heart to Thee

I trace the rainbow through the rain

And feel the promise is not vain

That morn' shall tearless be.

"But He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me."

2 Corinthians 12:9

before the throne

2011-09-01T10:58:00.001-07:00

Below is a short summary of things we would love your prayers over as we move into mobilization. Thank you so much for bringing us before the throne of grace. We are excited to see what God has in store for the coming year.

Prayer Requests:

--Spiritual, physical, mental and emotional safety for both Stephen and I as we are apart.

--Companionship for Stephen in an environment that is largely void of the Gospel and non-conducive to meaningful relationships.

--Opportunities for Stephen to live the Gospel.

--Success in his mission and in leading his men well.

--Companionship for me and wisdom in how to spend my time.

--Joy for both of us as we enter a more difficult season of life.

--Meaningful communication between us as we seek to continue building a Gospel-centered marriage long-distance.

Receive Updates via Email

2011-09-01T10:58:00.000-07:00

For your convenience, please sign up to receive updates via email in the box to your right.

Thank you for your loving commitment to caring for us, especially in this season of life!

livin' it up!

2011-08-30T14:05:00.000-07:00

We've been making the absolute most of the time we have this last month!

...we have been to/in weddings...

...we sailed to Mexico...

...on the Carnival Triumph...

(and i left my contacts at home so i bought this super cute hat)

...we saw some Mayan ruins...

...and we climbed up on them...

...we sunbaked and snorkeled in Cozumel...

...and fell in love with our towel creatures...

...we also celebrated my 24th birthday at PF Chang with my family...

...and went to another wedding...

...next up: a weekend at the beach with Stephen's family!

Thanks for keeping up with us! Please continue to pray as we count down to goodbye next Tuesday morning.

June update

2011-08-20T13:49:00.000-07:00

An update from mid-June:

Many people ask exactly what deployment means for life right now, and there are several facets to that answer.

Stephen was away at pre-deployment training for 10 days until last Monday. We have been referring to that week as a “trial run” for what deployment will be like for our marriage. We were able to talk most nights of the week, and I kept very busy with my brother’s 18th birthday, getting a new driver’s license, my dear friend Meredith’s wedding, and a girls’ trip to the beach for Meghan Lukken’s bachelorette.

Generally when people ask how I am doing my answer is “some days are better than others.” That proved true while we were apart as well. On the one hand, the Lord abundantly blessed the opportunities that “singleness” afforded me throughout the week. He opened up doors for some extremely meaningful conversations with dear friends on several occasions, conversations that I have prayed for consistently for some time now. It was quite clear that He is using our marriage to equip me for ministering in these situations. And so it was humbling, comforting and empowering to see His faithfulness in using our marriage so powerfully because we were not able to actually be together. He seems to consistently whisper His presence into the coming year, and my heart thrills in anticipation of the adventure He has in store for me at home while Stephen is away.

There were, however, difficult days. It will be an excruciatingly hard year. That is just the simple truth. Some sliver of my heart is terrified by how much I missed Stephen for just 10 days, and I dread to know the feeling of what months at a time will feel like. But honestly, there is so much freedom in embracing our journey as the trial that it is. I so appreciate the people God has sent to tell me that it will suck. They have greatly helped me in allowing myself to move past frustration over the struggle and toward allowing the Lord to minister to my heart.

My prayer right now is that the Lord would teach me how to grieve and embrace the hardship in a way that allows Him to mold my heart as He desires, while at the same time having my hope rest so heavily on eternity with Christ that I am filled with joy and peace. My mind reels wrestling with what this balance will or should look like, and I am tempted to go with either extreme. But when I simply absorb the sadness and wallow in separation, I am paralyzed by fear and expectations that cannot be met. Still I know that to dismiss it as no big matter in light of eternity, though my pride would love to appear so immovable and “strong,” would not afford God the opportunity to draw me more sweetly to Himself in honesty and comfort. I pray He uses every tear and every triumph throughout the coming year to His glory and my good, sanctification.

As we prepare our hearts in the meantime, the Lord has greatly blessed us with time, resources, and community in the journey. We are unbelievably grateful for the church family we have found at the Village Church in Vinings. The families we have come to know and love have welcomed us with open arms and homes and have sincerely sought to support us in any way possible both now and in the months to come.

Juliet’s family has been gracious, understanding and hospitable in taking care of me, and Stephen’s current employer is incredibly generous with their military employees. Our families are supportive and loving, and we are so grateful to have them nearby. And I expect that Lauren Jones will continue to be an instrument of grace to me throughout our future roommate days—what a gift she is!

So we look into the coming week to see Stephen on a business trip Tuesday through Thursday, which means lots of girl time for me! We will also get to celebrate two weddings next Saturday, and I intend to dance enough to make up for the weddings for which the Army has and will render me “single.” Mr. Kump had better bring his dancing shoes!

We would so appreciate your prayers that we would have time for rest, for quality time together, and for meaningful relationships in our last several weeks of summer. The time crunch makes it difficult to know how to prioritize our time and energy. Please pray for wisdom and rejuvenation.

Thank you for praying and loving us so well.

let's go get a snack

2011-08-20T13:26:00.000-07:00

Picture it.

We're at the park. It's time to go home. We've swung on the swings. We've slid down the slide. We've toted sticks around. We've watched the other kids.

The flurry of activity is fascinating and enthralling to Juliet's eager brown eyes.

In the midst of this commotion, "Let's go home," does not register. No response. Flat line.

However, "Want to go get a snack?" works every time.

Her head pops up, her whole body reacts, and she gives an enthusiastic "sssssnA--!" (Still working on the -CK sound, which means I obviously remain nameless.)

I lead the way and she begins to follow me. Fantastic.

But then another kid runs in front of her and across the playground, fully unaware that he has taken her attention span hostage in that journey. "C'mon, JuJu, let's go." I try to get her back on track. I offer her my hand, I walk on ahead of her, but she's lost.

"C'mon, this way. Let's go get our snack."

Back on track. Full speed ahead.

Until she sees the big kid swings. Repeat.

"...snack."

Headed to the car.

A captivating piece of trash or a particularly pretty stick.

"Our snack..."

Finally we make it back to the car, turn on the AC, and enjoy some raisins and juice.

Funny how 50 yards is such a trek for 15-month-old legs. It takes a while to toddle halfway across a football field, too long for a 15-month-old mind to focus on completing such a task.

Fascinating how the goal must be called to memory frequently if we are ever going to make it across the playground to the car. It is quite an effective method.

I am grateful that the Lord has the same smiling compassion on my lapse of memory that I have on Juliet. So many things to take my tiny mind off the goal. But I pray I will always be quick to respond to just one word from Christ in shepherding me back in the right direction.

Grateful for a husband, for parents, for leaders and for friends who are quick to speak that word as well.

Hope.

Eternity.

Love.

Joy.

Grace.

Gratitude.

everybody loves a tattletale

2011-07-30T07:49:00.000-07:00

Today JuJu and I joined Stephen at Chick-fil-A for lunch, grateful to have that opportunity for another few days. We certainly looked like a little family, though I am sure that anyone who watched our interactions closely would have found it strange how wary she was around her "dad", who we refer to as "Mr. Stephen."

After a lunch of french fries, banana mish mash and blueberries, I took Juliet to the indoor playground for a few minutes to stretch her legs and see some other kids. What a claustrophobic miniature of life beyond 48 inches.

I enjoy kids, love seeing Juliet process what their actions mean, and especially appreciate learning about the world through the realities that children display.

Not to anyone's surprise, one little girl was injured in the kid zone. Whether the pain was truly physical or primarily emotional, I cannot judge, but some sort of hurt was inflicted, and she ran out of the playground, into the restaurant with the classic line, "I'M TELLING MY MOM!"

I did not see the resolution to this conflict. The only other bit of the story that I can offer is that it seems this child was upset with a stranger, making it highly unlikely that her mother would have any opportunity to serve justice. Oh, she was sure to have been comforting and sympathetic, reassuring and tender, but no other mom ever came to discipline the son or daughter who had committed the offense.

And it occurred to me that the best case scenario for justice would be if the girl's sister had hurt her, so that Mom could convict and punish. The next best option would be for a "frienemy," a friend whose parents had a relationship with Mom, who would take seriously the fact that their child had acted out.

But what is far more likely in such a crowded public place, is that the other mother remained oblivious to her child's misdeed. And even if she had found out, there is still a chance she would have swept it under the rug, made an excuse, or been angry that her "angel" was accused of wrongdoing. And that stinks. No fair.

It made me think about humanity as a whole.

There is comfort in running to mom or dad when injustice abounds. It is innately wired in us to do so.

When someone or something offends us, we feel we have the right and the need to go to someone higher, someone in charge, to appeal for what is fair. And where would the world be if these governing bodies did not exist? Most in the first world would agree that anarchy is not conducive to rights or true freedom. For this reason, most of us submit, or at least subscribe to the ideology behind submission, to the government, the school administration, the justice system, the coach, the board, the HOA, the IRS, the boss, etc. When we limit ourselves by accepting authority, everyone is better off. And when others choose to act out of line, we are confident to take matters to those with influence and power to incite change or invoke consequences.

This is how we operate.

But some atrocities are bigger than our lives can handle. And despite our best efforts to form governing bodies that monitor the behavior of the entire world, some issues simply cannot be addressed by any one entity.

Sex trafficking.

Sex-selective abortion.

Abortion.

Genocide.

And so many more.

And this is where the "open-minded, non-discriminatory" belief that "what's right for you is right for you, and what's right for me is right for me" has a head-on collision with the reality of human nature. Or the idea that all religions are basically the same, faith is all you need, all religions get you to God.

For kids on the playground, each one's safety is dependent on the standards of behavior set by the parents of every other child around. If one parent is flippant about the responsibility of raising a child with social awareness and respect, the playground is no longer safe. Every parent is different.

Do we really think that human existence is without a judge, an arbitrator? At least in the end? If societies are either made or broken based upon the institution of justice, the declaration of right and wrong, the implementation of consequences for perpetrators, and the preservation of the innocent, do we really expect to reach the end of this world and find that none of it mattered? Deep down, can we really accept that?

Because here are our options.

There is no God. There is no accountability. There is no life after this. There is only now and nothing later. What we feel as injustice is only part of what makes us fit or unfit for survival.

There is a God who accepts all faiths, faith of any kind. He is too kind to judge. He takes into account your upbringing, accepts excuses, winks his eye, smooths everything over, ignores atrocity.

There is a God who will make all fair. And He will make it fairer than we want it to be. He will satisfy our desire for retribution and then some. He will hold each man and woman accountable. He will overlook no tears, no children, no lack of mercy. And He will punish extremely, radically, horrifically, eternally.

To say there is no God denies the wiring, the anger, the fury we feel at times.

To say he will not judge is to make him truly cruel, lazy, uncaring, unkind, not good, and unworthy of respect, devotion, adoration.

To say He will judge with a heavy fist, a righteous gavel, somehow makes this world and its pains a little more palatable.

But if He judges justly, then He must judge us as well. For if He is in essence Perfection, then weighty, outrageous offenders will not be His only criminals. Even what we would call misdemeanors are high crimes before the Pure and Spotless King, and as such will bear the weight of His wrath just the same.

Despair nearly sets in. If even the world's innocent are to be judged harshly, is there no hope?

But there is.

The entirety of God's wrath, we see, has already been poured out. On one man. On one cross. At one time.

God, in the flesh, Jesus the Christ, perfect and human, simultaneously, submitted to death on the cross. The greatest injustice of all time: vilest shame and death for the immaculate GodMan.

He took the punishment that all of us had earned. So that not all humans would be crushed on that final day of judgment, Jesus Christ accepted the conviction and endured the penalty. Not so that injustice was added to injustice. For when He did so, the perfection He had earned was offered to mankind if we would accept the arrangement God had made, if we would admit that what happened to Jesus should have happened to us, if we would humbly turn from the wickedness that made such drastic reparation necessary, if we would choose to submit in love to the authority and kindness of our Loving Despot.

Despot may be an odd choice in wording, but is that not what we need, what we long for? Someone all-loving, all-just, concerned for us, and all-powerful to act in our best interest, at all times. We know there should be someone who can handle it, someone who will act, someone who will not be hindered in any way from righting wrongs.

He made us to be this way. He made us to look for Him. He is written on our hearts.

And that is why we tattle.

We are tattletales because He is real.

"Many seek the face of a ruler, but it is from the Lord that a man gets justice." Proverbs 29:26

how Jesus handles PMS

2011-07-23T08:01:00.000-07:00

Last night I had a pretty significant realization, a spiritual breakthrough of sorts.

For years I have wrestled with the truth that Jesus "in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin." (Hebrews 4:15) Not because I doubt He was fully human, not because the source of that knowledge is unreliable, not because I doubt the heart of God. But there are times that I truly feel as though Jesus has NO idea what my struggles are like.

The reason for that: Jesus was a man.

Put differently, Jesus was NOT a woman.

His DNA, his hormones, his physical make-up was literally opposite of mine in some respects. I can imagine his weakness and temptation being incredibly real in any other realm of life and circumstances. But He never experienced in His body the surging and plunging of estrogen and progesterone on cue each month that at times leaves my mind helpless against the merciless hostile take-over of my emotions.

How in the world does He know what it feels like to laugh uncontrollably? Literally uncontrollably, helplessly, embarrassingly, publicly. Or weep for that matter over a ruined dinner, a rude cashier, a to-do list. How does He empathize with the bi-polar tendencies even the otherwise healthiest woman may experience once a month?

This week I feel like a different person altogether than I was last week--praise the Lord! I cried every day last week, my world was about to end, I was overwhelmed, lonely and irritable.

Not to paint the picture that I am now feeling perfect, but those feelings are non-issues this week. Yet my situation is exactly what it has been for months.

How does He intercede for that? What does He say when He comes before His Father on the throne? How does He communicate my fragility, my good intentions, my deep desire for holiness and my miserable inability to perform? What life experience does He harken back to for those visits to the throne room?

It hit me last night. Duh. How have I never thought of it before?

Mary must have been the most hormonal, psychotic mess at some point in Jesus' life.

With all due respect to the blessed virgin mother, she was human! Yes, the Lord showed her favor, and I do not mean to make light of her willingness to serve in a role that did not gain her any worldly recognition until well after the hardest times were endured. But for Jesus to have experienced every human weakness, for Him to have compassion on me now, I really believe that His sweet mother must have struggled immensely during His 33 years.

We can even see it if we look closely.

Mary was the one who encouraged Jesus to perform His first miracle, sending the wedding servants to Jesus so that He could turn water into wine.

But she was also right there with her likewise hormonal daughters and her jealous sons, urging Jesus to stop showing off and come home to His former life of carpentry.

And we see at the cross just how deeply Jesus cared for His mother as He instructed His beloved disciple to take on responsibility for her as though He were her son.

In the same way that Stephen has compassion on my strenuous emotional plight because he grew up with a mother and two sisters, I believe Jesus was very much concerned for the women in His life who also battled their hormones. Little did those sweet ladies know, but the extremity of their mood swings was preparing Jesus to be in every way the Great High Priest for us, having experienced even the particularly female side of sin.

"Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." Hebrews 4:16

butterfly, a poem for lauren baggett

2011-07-20T11:16:00.000-07:00

Twirling, gliding through the air,
Capturing the eye,
How are your wings so soft and fare,
O dainty butterfly?

Burns within a need to be
As lovely as you are,
Bright and free and beautiful,
Waving from afar.

And so I cry in anguish,
Your truest opposite,
Heavy, fat and slothful,
Helplessly obstinate.

To be rid of sticky fingers
That cling unto the ground!
To be rid of whorish appetite
Irrevocably bound!

But I remember what you once were,
Caterpillar in days of old,
Who, though death had seemed to conquer,
Splendid beauty did unfold.

So now let hope arise!
A fresh new hymn to sing!
When death in me is conquered,
Glory to my Savior King!

No more a crawling glutton,
No more sin's hunted prey!
Raised to life in newness
On that most glorious day!

I thank you, gentle butterfly,
You foreshadow who I'll be,
Made in Creator's image,
One day you'll fade by me.

Your beauty is a promise,
Your Creator is mine too,
And He loves me into beauty
As He's making all things new.

toddler school drop out

2011-07-20T11:15:00.000-07:00

Juliet is just entering the age of rapid growth and learning. It seems that over the course of just a few weeks she is now running, saying her first words, chewing food well, climbing and blowing kisses. Every day with her is an adventure--I love every second of it!

As she begins to learn more and more about the world around her, I think I will begin to learn more and more from her.

The first of these lessons came today.

Along with the joys of exploration and development come the trials of discipline, temper tantrums and life lessons.

If my previous experience with toddlers and preschoolers is any indication at all, I have a feeling that Juliet and I will prove to be quite alike in our basic needs and how we perceive them.

This week at breakfast she has yet to finish a bowl of cereal (we do thoroughly differ on that point). This morning, for instance, she ate about two-thirds of the bowl before melting down. The entire ordeal begins with her evasion of the spoon approaching her mouth. She dives around it, arm outstretched, reaching for the entire bowl, chirping, "egh! egh! egh! egh!" She is growing up and I can appreciate that. I encourage it, even. So I offer to let her feed herself. I hand her the spoon briefly, but as soon as she crashes it on her tray to stick her fingers in the mush I change my strategy for partnership.

After regaining control of the spoon, I gently grab her little hand on my way to her mouth, so that she could help me shovel it in. That worked approximately once.

Frustrated with her lack of control over the cereal, she arches her back, throws her new curls further behind her, points with a strain toward the pantry and begins again: "egh! egh! egh! egh!"

"What do you want, JuJuBe?" I try. "Can you use your words?"

At this point she does calm down just a little bit. She knows her first approach is not the behavior that gets rewarded. In her defense, she has very few words so far, none of them defined by items in the pantry. So I go for, "Can you say please?" Not yet. "Would you like some cheerios?" A more contented grin and grunt.

Cheerios on deck, I sit back for her to feed herself. Her interest lasts through two-thirds of the cheerios as well. And we start all over again.

This time she is pointing to the counter top. Magnets, a flashlight, a notebook, a box of odds and ends, a greeting card. Clearly, no breakfast menu items to be found. Nonetheless, "egh! egh! egh! egh!" And her intensity only increases.

I tell her, "I'm sorry, baby, but there's nothing for you over there. You can eat cereal or cheerios or drink your juice. But you can't have anything else right now."

No one in their right mind would think me cruel or unkind by denying her these things at the breakfast table, or any other time. Babies have baby toys, and Juliet is no exception. Some things are for her. Some things are not. That is life.

But I am convicted by how hard that lesson is for her to learn.

It is true throughout the day, not just at the breakfast table. If she sees my car keys, she wants them. If she sees the remote control, she wants it. If I go to the bathroom, she wants to come in. If she sees the mustard in the pantry within reach, she will run across the room to try to catch it while I have it open.

At her age, this is generally healthy curiosity. There is nothing wrong with her wanting to explore the world around her.

But I think about what is actually going on in most of the cases when she pitches a fit. She regularly asks for things that are not hers. She regularly asks for things that could harm her. She sees no distinction. She does not know any better. It is up to me to discern what is beneficial for her to play with and what should remain beyond her reach. And if that makes her mad at times, I can handle that. I would rather her be mad than hurt, and no one would blame me.

It almost makes me chuckle though to think about my own disposition. What makes me think I know what is good for me?

Now, on many levels, I do.

I know what foods are healthy and which ones are not. I know the rules of traffic and how to navigate a car. I know not to stick my fingers in sockets. I know how to use scissors and flashlights and a fireplace. I know that not everything is edible or tasty. Yes, I know more of the basics than Juliet does. Let's hope so with 23 more years of experience!

But what is the difference between the knowledge that she has and the knowledge that I have when compared to the knowledge of my Heavenly Father? Not a whole lot. I have more responsibility for having more education, but compared to the ultimate love and ultimate goodness of my God and His plans, I know about as much as Juliet.

How often do I pitch a fit, reaching for things that are so clearly detrimental? What do I think I need? What do I feel entitled to that would tear me to pieces if the Lord let me have it? How lustful are my eyes? Do I want everything I see, everything that appears to me to have beauty?

I fear that all too often I ask Him for things that He knows I should not have. More hours in the day, simpler relationships, different opportunities for writing or ministry, or even a full year of marriage before my husband deploys overseas for a year. All of these things seem like good ideas to me. And my motives in asking for them are often genuine, pure and toward His glory. But He must know more than I do.

If my perspective on life is so radically different than Juliet's after a mere 23 years of progression along the same course. And if the God whom I serve is altogether above and beyond and other than me. And if He even came to earth to live here 33 years. May I in any way assume otherwise than that He views my life and my desires and my situations through a lens that my heart and mind cannot fathom?

And if Juliet is not my child, but rather is my job. And if I want what is good for her and try daily to discern and prioritize her needs. And if my God is a sin-loathing, goodness effusing, loving Savior. And if my life has been paid for by the blood of His Son, Jesus Christ, on the cross of my sin. May I not conclude that He cares more for me than I do for Juliet, and that His answers to my prayers, whether they are "yes" or "no" or "not now", are the best and most loving responses to the joys and trials of my life?

Does this mean that I should not ask? Or, worse yet, try not to want anything at all? By no means! He made us with desires and needs that He longs to fill. Not only that, but that He alone is able to fill ultimately. The entire point is that fulfillment is found in Him alone, and He refuses to fill us up with anything else. Too often, whether we realize it or not, our requests to Him are that He would satisfy us with something other than Himself. He will not do that because it cannot be done. We were made for Him, not for ourselves.

As I bring my requests to Him, I want to come humbly. I want to come in need. Not of satisfaction, nor of answers. But in need of knowing Him more. I pray that He will use each need and desire of my heart to draw me into deeper satisfaction in Christ. I want a teachable soul that does not shriek in contempt when life does not go my way. I want a soul that comes to the throne of grace for the Giver alone, not for what He has to give. Only for His self.

So much to learn in this journey, in growing up. Still so far to go.

I pray that Juliet and I will grow together. In wisdom and in stature and in favor with both God and men. I pray we grow like our Lord Jesus did. I pray we grow like our Lord Jesus.

the note that was taken from me

2011-06-04T06:42:00.000-07:00

A criminal in the Greco-Roman world was issued, as a record of debt, a written note of indebtedness. When the crime warranted death, that note was fastened to the cross by the Roman authorities, declaring the crime for which the criminal was being executed.

Colossians 2:13-14 takes on fresh meaning in this light:

"And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross."

The soldiers who crucified Jesus fastened His accusation on His cross: "King of the Jews." Guilty of being the One True God.

The Father who allowed Jesus to be crucified fastened my accusation on His cross: "Proud, self-righteous rebel. Critical, judgmental, unfaithful idolator. Slothful skimper. Hypocritical, self-centered, egotistical user of people. Ungrateful, cowardly, sensual manipulator. Deserving of death by cruel torture." Guilty of cosmically offending and defaming the One True God.

Jesus forfeited His identity and took on mine at the exact moment that the wrath of God was coming for me. He absorbed it all, and in the sweet exchange of grace, His identity was offered to me. The One who had not sinned had become sin on my behalf, so that I might become the righteousness of God in Him (2 Corinthians 5:21).

"Because a sinless Savior died

My sinful soul is counted free

For God the just is satisfied

To look on Him and pardon me"

~Before The Throne

words.

2011-05-24T08:45:00.000-07:00

Dearest country overseas,

I am sending you my heart.

Please appreciate his presence

That will keep us far apart.

For God's glory and your good

I'll give the one my heart holds dear,

And I pray he'll come back wholly

When he's mine again next year.

Dearest Jesus, Here's my heart.

I give it back to you each day.

It is Yours and so please move it

in Your sweet and gentle way.

Years at distance, hours of wrath,

Are the deployment that it cost,

So let my heart stand on this Rock

Once-for-all found cannot be lost.

and I thought my wedding was a big deal!

2011-05-02T09:05:00.000-07:00

Friday was a magical day for a significant percentage of the world's population. Some reports indicate that Prince William's marriage to Kate Middleton was viewed by billions of people all over the globe. Though I did not rise to watch it live, the coverage was gripping even when I joined in at 7:30 on Friday morning.

Throughout the day my mind reeled with the reality this fairy tale reveals.

We all yearn for a royal wedding.

The Cinderella strand is embedded in our DNA whether we admit it freely or not. Women tend to subscribe more passionately and freely. Men attempt to play it down. But we are all captivated by the story of a commoner's heart being desired by, pursued by, and united to the heart of the future king.

We love this union because Kate was one of us. She was common. Her parents were both flight attendants in their earlier days and have only more recently come into entrepreneurial success as online retailers of party supplies. She grew up as any other 80s-born girl around the globe, dreaming of marrying one of the two handsome princes left, but without much reason to believe it would happen (though it certainly helped that she is British).

The pauper-to-princess tale grips our hearts. Whether we have heard it before or not, we all know, etched on our souls, that this story is ours. That at last we will become treasure to the King and be invited to the throne room.

The story of Jesus and His bride.

We are enthralled by her dress and his attire, because our dress is His righteousness and He is adorned with victory and praise.

We are enthralled by the grandeur, because the wedding feast of the Lamb will fill our hearts as they were made to be filled.

We are enthralled by the ring, because rather than a lovely heirloom, our Groom has left us with His Spirit as His pledge to return for us.

We are enthralled by the pomp and circumstance of regality, because we were made to love the King and find life in His glory.

We are enthralled by the happily ever after, because we long so achingly for the only wise King to declare, "Behold, I am making all things new."

my brother, Barabbas

2011-04-22T14:22:00.000-07:00

Dear Barabbas,

You're on my mind today. I feel a strange connection to you that I've never felt before.

For a moment I want to see what you saw, feel what you felt. I think it would shake me to the core. I would never be the same.

Did you know? Did you ever realize what happened that Friday?

You woke up in prison. You went to sleep in your own bed.

The sun found you a prisoner. The moon found you a free man.

How did you do it? What words did you say? Did you treat the other prisoners nicely? Were you respectful of the guards? Did you do enough good things to outweigh your mutiny against Rome? Did you protect enough people to excuse your murderous reputation?

Somehow, I doubt it.

In a way I am jealous of the perspective you had, because our stories are the same on that day.

When your eyes first opened that morning, you were sentenced to death, resigned to justice, awaiting the punishment you knew you deserved. You had seen crosses. You knew what your treachery would earn if ever you were captured. Traitors to the crown of Rome lined the streets, the barely living and the long dead, vivid reminders of the wrath that awaited those who threatened the emperor. You had earned that status, that sentence, that misery.

How did you feel when you learned you were chosen? Were you shocked when the guard brought you out at their request? Were you proud and self-confident? Did you gloat as you left?

Or did you see Jesus on your way out? You must have known who He was. Were you astounded to see that His freedom was given to you? Had you any idea just how innocent He was?

You see, as you walked away to resume your life, He was led away to allow others to end His own. All the miracles, all the sermons, all the Scriptures He had memorized, all the acts of mercy were as nothing to Him. Everyone ignored His impeccable record. And all of the good that He had accomplished was credited to you. Certainly no one was actually thinking that you had behaved so well, but you found yourself reaping the benefits of perfect living in an instant.

Did you realize what was happening? You, and you alone, had any semblance of a notion what Jesus was doing that day. Whether you realized it or not, while everyone else was baffled by His horrifying torture and death, you alone were already walking in the shadow of the cross, covered by the blood of the Lamb.

You see, a transaction was made that day. The wrath of God was coming. Let there be no doubt. The wrath of God was always coming. From the apple in the garden to the hills outside your city, the vengeance of Almighty God was coming against those who rejected His love and established their own kingdom. Wrath was coming for you and me. For the mutinous, calloused-hearted, self-exalting race. Because a holy God, one who truly loves, cannot allow wickedness, Love's antithesis, to prevail. He would not be loving at all if He did.

So heaven's fury made a date with the earth. Retribution.

And heaven's flesh-clad Love accepted the invitation. Substitution.

To those who looked on, He appeared weak and passive, but in bewildering humility, the King of kings held His tongue and let you walk free in His place. And after watching your reentry into freedom, Jesus set His gaze on the hill. He dragged His self and His fuel to the altar of Calvary to intercept the punishment you traded Him for, I traded Him for.

Perhaps watching your freedom fanned His flame. Perhaps the faint reflection of the grander task at hand was the hope He clasped as He started down the road. Because He was not merely taking your punishment, though your guilt was exceedingly great. And He was not merely setting you free, though His love for you did compel Him. He was taking my guilt and punishment, and your cousin's, and my brother's, and the teenage boys who were looking for trouble at the park today, and the beautiful preschool girl who sits angelically through the service at church each week, and every person who has every lived. He was setting free the entire race, not from mere physical imprisonment in this life, but from the cast-iron bonds of slavery to sin and from the unspeakable agony of eternity apart from Love.

Oh Barabbas, His love for you was overwhelming! And yet it speaks but a faint whisper of the love He has for all humanity, a love He would shout with all His might from the cross: "It is finished!"

Your name, Barabbas, is altogether gripping. From the Aramaic root words "bar" and "Abba," "son of Abba," "son of a father or master." Privileged. Favored. Heir. As one who represented all who would accept the substitution offered by Jesus, all who would exchange freedom with Him, your name is the one we have all inherited. "When the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, "Abba! Father!" So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God."

I hope you realized who you were, my friend. I hope to meet with you one day when days are endless and hear how your frozen heart was thawed on that one good day for you.

I am grateful for your identity, Barabbas, for your presence in the story that is mine as well. All glory be to God--for Your Word, for Your Love, for Your goodness on display on Friday.

Daughter of Abba,

Katie

sand I am

2011-04-19T08:33:00.000-07:00

When everything around me

seems to cruelly fall apart,

When my weakness, striving, failure

rend asunder my frail heart

Then I realize my foundation

has not been steady land

But I've built upon myself,

forgetting I am naught but sand

Shifting, tricky, flaky grains,

far too tiny to give strength,

The best I had to offer

returned a dismal lack of length

Something stronger, Someone sure

must support my weight of life

For tiny grains of sand

hold not this woman, friend and wife

Though I'll give wholehearted effort,

my foundation e'er must be

Jesus, crucified and risen,

Solid Rock, my Hope is He

"Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it." Matthew 7:24-27

stones

2011-02-21T10:12:00.000-08:00

Staggering,

the weight of sin,

She crumples to the dust
Calloused hands of calloused hearts

Jolt her with a final thrust

Scorching sun and blinding light

The last her eyes will see

She bows her head, her tears make mud

And waits for gravity

Then He steps in

He intervenes

Not because she's innocent

More because all stones on earth

Fail to afford atonement

If every stone that could be found

Were hurled against her sin

Still too heinous, grievous shame

Would plague her from within

With sin too great

Rebellion's breach

Healed and mended by just One

Superseding stones and surface splints

The Father sent His Son

And all the pain of stonings past

And all those to be earned

Broke the life of God's own Son

At the cross His Father spurned

One large stone

Now rolled in place

To seal the sting of death

One large stone, the angels sing

King Christ reclaims His breath

Heretofore her verdict death

Ever after life and light

All sins washed and all stones rolled

Away in Jesus' might

waiting on the sun

2011-01-27T12:39:00.000-08:00

the sleepy sky is dark

but not without illumination

clouds are dull and grey

but sing anticipation

the sun is on its way

and with it mercies new

to light the morning sky

to saturate it through

to bless the weary eye

whose heart is dull and grey

with hope in vivid light

the sun is on its way

ever softly comes the bright

warming wonder of each ray

heating tendrils, wisps and swirls

brand new pigments on display

myriad grace He now unfurls

dripping from the newborn day

filling eyes and heart with life

hugging near the faraway

and to think these glories rife

tender mercy's own bouquet

breaths ago were dull and dark

but the Sun is on its way

my second favorite engagement of 2010

2011-01-13T08:05:00.000-08:00

About 10 years ago, one faithful 23-year-old wrote her heart into a song for her future husband and shared it with the world. She opened her prayers and love letters to the watching eyes of the media and shared the deep desires of her heart with a generation that would be truly bombarded by the lie that sexual intimacy is one's right and pleasure to be taken as soon as the urge is known.

Already my eyes are brimming with tears of gratitude for the life and legacy of Rebecca St. James. As I have written before, music, more than any other single factor in my formative years, has pushed me into the presence of God and shaped the woman I have become (and am still becoming). From the time I was 8 years old until now, nothing has held more power to point me toward Christ or away from Him than the melodies and lyrics I allow to permeate my mind.

With great confidence I can say that Rebecca's aforementioned song has been the single most influential piece of music or literature to shape my heart other than the very Word of God.

I wish I could remember the first time I heard "Wait For Me" but to this day I know that it is number 8 on the "Transform" album. It is also the only song in my collection that I will absolutely listen to every single time it comes on shuffle. Though the lyrics seem cheesy if I am not in a romantic state of mind (though I typically am), the passion behind the song is just as much my heart-cry at age 23 as it was that first day when I was 13.

In the middle of my most awkward and hormonal years of confusion, I knew a few things. I truly loved Jesus with all of my heart and wanted to please Him above all else. "Wait For Me" also highlighted another very important life fact: I wanted to love well the man God would send to be my husband. I began to claim the meaning of my name as part of God's calling on my life: "pure one." I came to view my body as it is: God's temple. And I experienced immediately the segregation that my radical standards would create.

Surely it will surprise many people who know me now to learn that in middle school I was absolutely obsessed with my first kiss. It is actually quite comical now to remember how imminent I believed that event to be. No opportunity remotely presented itself until my senior year of high school. But my heart was enraptured by the thought and my imagination would not rest. I vividly remember the day I realized that I had exhausted every plausible scenario for how it might happen. In the disappointment of the new boredom that settled in my mind, the Spirit of God spoke to my heart. "Hey Kate, you care about this just a little too much. Can I have it? How about we save your first kiss for your wedding day?" With Rebecca's lyrics ever fresh in my mind, I embraced this commitment wholeheartedly. "Cool!" I thought, "Let's do it!"

One decade later, I am 23. The road has not been easy, and my journey has not been perfect, but the countdown is on. Only 72 days and 5 1/2 hours until my first kiss. But who's counting?

It scares me to think how my heart may have responded if I had been listening to the "music of the day" back in 2000. Not that everyone who listened to *Nsync or Britney has train-wrecked their life. I do not mean that at all. But I know my heart and life would be different. And especially to consider the values that contemporary pop music affords today, hearts like mine are set to fail if living to the tunes of Kesha and Miley.

And so, it is with great humility and joy that I celebrate Rebecca St. James' own engagement and upcoming marriage. Her commitment to purity and her integrity to live it publicly has radically changed my life. Not only has it shaped my focus and activity over the last decade, but she has, perhaps unknowingly, invested riches upon riches in the quality of my marriage to Stephen Kump. He and I owe a huge debt of gratitude to this woman in the Lord for her faithful stewardship of conviction, talent and influence. We have been preserved for each other in her own waiting.

So as she and I enter married life in the same year, I pray her marriage will be infinitely more effective in ministering than her singleness has been. I can only imagine what Rebecca's married life will hold for the Kingdom of God if He has used her so powerfully in what may seem to have been an extended period of singleness. Look out, world! Now she has a partner and should no longer be alone. I celebrate and rejoice with her, give great thanks for her, and look forward to expressing my gratitude for her in person one day.

Mine is only one story. Lord, let there be millions more.

Darling, did you know that I
I dream about you
Waiting for the look in your eyes
When we meet for the first time
And darling, did you know that I
I pray about you
Praying that you will hold on
And keep your loving eyes only for me

CHORUS:
'Cause I am waiting for, praying for you darling
Wait for me too
Wait for me as I wait for you
'Cause I am waiting for, praying for you darling
Wait for me too
Wait for me as I wait for you
Darling wait

Darling did you know
I dream about life together
Knowing it will be forever
I'll be yours and you'll be mine
And darling when I say
" Til death do us part"
I mean it with all of my heart
Now and always faithful to you

CHORUS

Now I know you may have made mistakes
But there's forgiveness, and a second chance
So wait for me, darling wait for me
Wait for me
Darling wait for me

CHORUS

i get to marry Stephen Kump? you're kidding

2010-12-22T05:32:00.000-08:00

Over the last year, I have spent my time, not only with infants, toddlers and 3-year-olds, but with Stephen Kump, the man who will be my husband in just 94 short days. To say I have not learned from interacting with him would be one of the greatest lies of my life. Quite the contrary, it is changing everything about me. But as it is with my pre-K friends, Stephen is not truly the one shaping my heart. He is not worthy of worship or even credit for the ways my soul is changed. But he does reflect brilliantly and submit obediently to the Author and Perfecter of my faith. For that I am grateful, and for that I am changed.

For the purpose of these thoughts, our story started almost exactly one year ago, but one must know that we had previously been friends for four years and arguably "more than friends" for the third year of those. On December 17, 2009 I left my parents' house after a healthy but painful break-up and returned to Woodley to join my roommates and our friends in Christmas caroling around the neighborhood. My arrival was tardy and my heart was begging numbness to afford a happy face. Only my closest friends knew what my past three hours had entailed, so I braced myself for sociability and genuinely made the best of the rest of the evening.

No sooner had my heart gasped for the first breath of "life will be more than fine" than Stephen Kump reentered my world after at least a six-month leave of absence. I truly cannot recall when I saw him before that, but certainly not while I was in a relationship or even considering it for several months prior. All of a sudden I found myself in his friendly, affectionate hug, remembering what a faithful friend he had always been. Red flag.

Our interaction was minimal as I recall, but any woman can testify that a freshly broken heart does not need much. We made eye contact during a game of charades later in the evening, and I immediately knew that my defenses needed bolstering. That night I would tell my best friend, Katie, "Question me relentlessly on anything that has to do with Stephen Kump." I knew that if I were to rebound, it would be in his direction (which may or may not have happened previously), and I knew I wanted to avoid such a response with all my might.

Two days later two of our closest friends were married. I did my best not to look at Stephen on the dance floor or be conscious of where he was at all times. I tried not to notice how handsome he was in a tux or how my heart twitched anytime my eyes met his. Just as I reached around to pat myself on the back for a day well-played, my roommates planned the annual trip to his house that he and I have sustained since our freshman year at Tech. Clearly, I was going.

Three days after the wedding I headed to Columbus by myself. My roommates had bailed on the trip they instigated, but I found myself driving down to see Katie Jones as she and her brother were the only other two going. As a means of reconciliation for giving me directions that landed me briefly in Alabama, Stephen bought my movie ticket that evening and gave me two hugs as I tried to leave for Peachtree City later on. My heart felt as though it were under a siege. I cried much of my drive home. I cried because my heart was still hurting from the recent break-up. I cried because I knew Stephen Kump knew me better and cared for me deeper than any man on earth. I cried because the distance between us seemed too great to be bridged. I cried because I knew no one else would ever come close to who he was.

When I sent my thanks for the movie ticket in a text message back at home, he responded by telling me, "You're very welcome!!! You deserve to be treated well!!" For anyone who knows Stephen Kump, and I certainly did, his enthusiasm is near explosive if he ever considers using so many exclamation points. I opened the message and groaned, already exhausted from the battle against my feelings for him. Fortunately, the next few days of Christmas distracted me for some period of time and I had a reprieve.

For whatever reason, though we had not seen much of each other in the past year, 2010 began with several good reasons for getting together or at least sending a text or two. The final season of 24 started up, and that could not go uncelebrated. Georgia Tech had a swing dance, and though we both invited a good crowd to join us, we danced more together than not (much to my frustration). Stephen turned 23 late in January which warranted a "happy birthday, old man" text. And his invitation to accompany him to the Army National Guard Ball sparked a series of awkward, confusion-revealing, emotion-sensitive text messages that we could no longer avoid.

He asked me to coffee on the first Thursday of February. I went with knotted stomach and anxious heart, fully aware that we still had feelings for each other just beneath our otherwise calm exteriors. But I was also aware that my heart was still in full rebound mode. We made small talk and discussed a few ministry opportunities, but he ultimately steered the conversation into one for clarifying our relationship potential. For the first time in five years we were perfectly honest about our feelings (mostly his) and our reservations (mostly mine) in considering a relationship with each other.

As far as I can recall, I spent the entire conversation in silent prayer, something to the effect of "Oh Lord, what are You doing? Will You please just give me words? All I need to know right this second is what to say next!" He waited about seven months to really show His hand on the first question, but He told me two things to tell Stephen that night. One: I would need at least one month before I even wanted to think about a relationship due to the state of my heart. And two: I wanted my dad to be much more involved in all of my relationships in the future because he had just read Voddie Baucham's "What He Must Be...If He Wants to Marry My Daughter."

We said goodnight, I tucked the conversation away, and went on with life for the next month without giving it much thought.

Mr. Kump, on the other hand, had walked away with an unintentionally given assignment. Read that book. Call in a month.

I was only momentarily surprised when I received a text message EXACTLY one month later to arrange a coffee date for the first Thursday in March. For the entire month I had assumed that Stephen might call sometime in March, you know, if he happened to think about it or if he still kind of liked me. It only took one second after seeing, "I suppose it's about that time. You open for starbucks later Thursday evening?" for me to remember who I was dealing with. Stephen Kump thinks about everything. Apparently, especially me.

Not surprisingly, I did not have many new thoughts for Mr. Kump at this meeting. He said the Lord was leading him to pursue this relationship. I told him that was fine but that I was not interested unless my parents thought it was a good idea, which was not currently the case. In hindsight (and from hearing it from him later), I came across quite standoffish, nearly abrasive? That was not my intent, but I knew that my heart was still not quite ready and I knew that both of our hearts could easily have feelings for each other. It had happened before; I knew it would happen again as soon as we spent any amount of time together. For both our sakes, I did not want to entangle hearts unnecessarily.

I cried myself home from that meeting as well, frustrated and confused and, if I am honest, a little put-off by Stephen's pursuit. I had no idea what I wanted in life relationally or occupationally, but I did not like what was going on. Not one bit.

Stephen left frustrated too, but not without determination. He called my dad. He made plans to visit Peachtree City. And he did.

Now, in the weeks between coffee date number two and his trip to see my dad, I became thoroughly confused. I thought the meeting with my dad would close the book on "us" with finality, but in the days leading up to it I found myself wanting it to go well, wanting Stephen to be given a chance. I could not see that being possible, but my heart had made a drastic shift away from every other relational bent and toward Stephen. As I prayed, the Lord moved my heart.

But his visit to my dad left us all astonished. He did not ask permission for us to date or even go on a few dates. He asked if he and my dad could get to know each other. He would not initiate any communication with me, but he and my dad would get lunch every few weeks. How could Daddy say "no" to that?

The next month and a half that Stephen spent "dating" my dad felt nearly tortuous at times (at least on my end). We only saw each other on a handful of occasions, but each one left me flustered and eager, somewhat twitter-pated even. My dad was a steal vault full of thoughts he was (wisely) unwilling to share after each of their meetings, and I was left to wrestle with the Lord over where He wanted my heart to be.

And this is where I first began to learn my role as the future bride of Stephen Kump and the Bride of the coming Christ.

Knowing how much Stephen Kump cared for me was undoing my heart. In an effort to protect and respect him, I spent those months praying fervently for the Lord to show me His will and not let my heart's desires be deceitful. The very last thing I wanted on earth was to allow Stephen to pursue me, enjoy his attention for a while and then realize I did not truly care for him.

But as I prayed a prayer of frustration one night after seeing him at our Cinco de Mayo party, the Lord stepped in. I was realizing that Stephen's love for me was irresistible, and it was driving me CRAZY. The look in his eyes, his willingness to help, his investment in building a relationship with my dad, his restraint in not talking to me, all made me want to be with him infinitely more than I ever imagined possible. As I poured out my heart to the Lord, He said,

"You were made to joyfully reciprocate boundless, extravagant love. I made you to respond to my overwhelming, uncomparable love for you. This is not the first time you have been loved into loving Someone. I did this first. This was my idea, not Stephen's."

The truth of the realization leaves me in awe even now. It is absolutely impossible for us as human beings to resist fathomless, costly, steadfast love. The need for it was the founding structure of our DNA as we are made in the image of God who is, in Himself, Love. And yet if He did not love us with abandon, if it were not for His love that initiated pursuit when we were far off, we never could have turned to Him. Sin has too devastatingly marred our ability to respond to God except for the passionate cross of Jesus that reaches to the depths of our depravity.

Stephen's love for me has not rescued my life in such an extreme way, but the concept is the same. That while I was resisting, mourning the loss of less devoted pursuers, and frankly discouraging to the point of all-but-complete-rejection, he made up his mind and his heart, he graciously ignored my feelings at the time, and he set his sights on making me his own. He decided ahead of time that he would do whatever it took. If not for his decision to love me, he could have easily given up with discouragement from me or the magnitude of the obstacles between us.

"Jesus, Faithful King,

Lord, with grateful hearts we sing,

How great is the love,

How great is the love of our Savior.

The weight of the cross,

The curse of our shame,

You carried it all and rose from the grave,

How great is the love,

How great is the love of our Savior."

-"How Great is the Love" by Meredith Andrews

His love is limitless.

Stephen and I were given permission to go on dates on Monday, May 10. We did so almost every other night for the remainder of the month. We began courting on Tuesday, June 1, and we knew we were to be married over Labor Day weekend in September.

The big give-away in knowing the Lord was calling me to be Stephen's wife was in his seemingly infinite knowledge of my heart. His birthday gift to me in mid-August revealed just how well he knew me and how deeply he valued who I really am. No one else on earth had figured me out so thoroughly as this man. And it is truly life-altering to be known so honestly and yet loved so genuinely.

This is why the incarnation of God was so crucial to our salvation. Jesus left heaven to come to earth so that He could really know us, know our pain, know our hearts. Not that He was lacking in any knowledge prior to His glorious condescension, but He limited Himself to the form of a man in order to know us and our depravity experientially. Yet in all of this, He loved sacrificially and intentionally.

Stephen proposed on Saturday evening, December 11 in such a way that only the love of Christ could be seen. Unaware that we were on a schedule to get to our engagement party, I was incredibly frustrated and ugly toward him for rushing through a nice dinner at the Sundial in Atlanta to make me pray on top of a Georgia Tech building in the dead of Atlanta's coldest recorded winter. Because I was not informed of Stephen's recent job offer, I was incredibly irritated that we were doing such proposal-esque things on a date that could not possibly include a knee and a ring.

I continued in my funk as he asked for the chance to lift my spirits. What I was wanting was for him to realize that he had hurt my feelings, apologize profusely, promise he will try to never let it happen again, and...I don't know. What I wanted was to be right. I thought that seeing him sorry would bring satisfaction. I was ugly, horrible, just wanting to be sure he knew that he had hurt my feelings.

But what was Mr. Kump doing? He had decided to love me and marry me. So he did what it took to get me to the place where that could happen. Kicking, screaming and nasty as I may have been on the inside, he lovingly asked for permission to love me through it all for the rest of his life.

As he read to me of love's patience and kindness, as he told me he loved me for the first time in words, and as he knelt before me to ask for my hand in marriage, every crusty crevice of my heart was washed pure by humility in the light of his love. Gratitude, love and joy replaced self-centeredness, wrath and dirge.

And so it is with me and my Savior.

When I get a true glimpse of the contrast between my filth and His radiance, His death and my life, His cross and my Hope, I cannot remain unchanged by His love. I love Him all the more because I do not deserve His in the least.

And one more thing I am learning from loving Stephen Kump.

My imagination is hardly difficult to entertain when it comes to our honeymoon destination. If he will be there, I am happy to go. (Ok, in all honesty, I would pitch a fit if he tried to drag me to Canada in March, but he knows that, so we're good.) Two things here:

1. (and this applies to many other things, most recently, my ring) Stephen wants to bless me with far more than just "what works." He has far better ideas about what is special and worthwhile than I do. When I was thinking Florida's panhandle, he was checking flights to Maui and Aruba.

and 2. Because I love him, my heart is automatically disposed to jump wholeheartedly into whatever will bring him the most joy. (I know this will not always be the case because I will always have a self-centered streak, but I pray love for him wins more often than not.) My knowledge of tropical destinations is remarkably limited, making my preferences very much the same. I really could not have ranked the Caribbean versus Hawaii if my life depended on it, but seeing Stephen's excited desire to go to Maui for the thrill of whatever adventure awaits us there was enough to take my heart their too. If that will bring him joy, count me in.

My Heavenly Father wants to give me far more than I would choose for myself. And I pray that my heart will always joyfully follow Him into what brings Him most joy and fame.

I feel quite certain that I will look back on all of this in 50 years and laugh at how much I think I have already learned. In light of what is to come, this is hardly the beginning. But I am grateful for the Lord leading me in such loving lessons right now, and I pray that my heart will be soft and teachable in the years to come, both pleasant and trying, even more-so than in this season of delight.

Rene and Brandon's Save-the-Date

2010-12-01T17:38:00.000-08:00

Rene and Brandon are thrilled to announce

The date when they"Man and Wife" are pronounced.

They met at Toyota in Fall of 2007

When God crossed their paths with a purpose from heaven.

At first sight, Rene thought, (clearly more than a whim)

"Now I could marry someone who looks just like him!"

Brandon was smitten and would later admit,

He just couldn't resist Rene's spunk or her wit.

Their friendship developed as did love for the Lord,

And Brandon marked with a diamond the one he adored.

Thus began love and now ends their long distance,

Please save their big day and plan your attendance.

Choosing Peaches or Derby was a tough one to call,

But we look forward to sharing our day with you all!

messiest day EVER

2010-12-01T17:29:00.001-08:00

Do not let the wide-eyed, so-fresh-and-so-clean-clean-in-my-jammies look fool you: today was, by far, mine and Juliet's messiest ever. Between a GINORMOUS POOPY DIAPER and her newfound carrot craze, I did 2 loads of laundry (in addition to what her mom did last night), gave her a bath, changed two onesies and two pairs of pants, and came home with formula crystalizing in my sleeve and carrots crusting in my jeans.

Lovely, huh?

But I learned something again (round 5,843,052) as I was feeding her carrots (round 2).

She got so excited about that next bite that she destroyed it on several occasions. She was either so caught up in the frenzy that her flailing, enthusiastic little arms knocked the spoon onto my lap or the carpet, or she was far too distracted by reaching for the bowl that contained the carrots for me to be able to feed her. She is quick and her fingers grip tightly (ask my scalp), so I realized that the bowl needed to be out of sight, and I reminded her frequently that the process works better when she does not try to help me get the spoon to her mouth.

With the bowl hidden from her view, she was able to calm down, focus on the spoon, open her mouth at the right time, and enjoy her meal. It was also far less stressful for me.

The Lord knows I can only handle the task of eating one spoonful at a time.

My hands need to rest as I trust Him to gently feed me what He knows is best.

The bowl of the future needs to be firmly out of my sight so I cannot flail at it recklessly or grip it counterproductively.

So humbling to sit in front of a carrot-faced, 6-month-old little person and realize I am looking in the mirror. What a mess I must look like to my Heavenly Father! Ha! Forget looking like one, a mess is what I am, it is all I know how to make. Graciously He takes up His wet rag of mercy again and again to wipe my mouth, He cleans my hands, He removes the stains from my garments, and He patiently waits to lead me to the next bite of His provision. And slowly, far more slowly than Juliet's development as a human being, He is making me into a new creation, the image of His Perfect Son, my Savior. With painstaking patience He feeds me what grows me into the heart of Jesus.

So grateful that His grip is tighter than Juliet's bumbo seat, that His patience is infinitely longer than my own, that His wisdom exceeds my own unimaginably more than mine exceeds Juliet's, and that He loves me and loves feeding me good things.

please just let me cry!

2010-11-28T15:47:00.000-08:00

Playing with Juliet these days is, overall, an exciting and entertaining activity. Hardly "work". She is learning new things every single day, and it is a blast to watch her up close.

I realized though that sometimes the best thing for her is for me to not help. Does she like this option? Not quite. But let me explain.

Crawling is the current task at hand. She can crawl backward but not forward, which is a start, but a frustrating one at that. I get a little excited every time her toys get out of reach because I hope this will be the time that she figures it out, that she raises up on her knees, coordinates their forward progress with that of her arms, and inches or even centimeters closer to what she wants.

Unfortunately that has not yet happened successfully. Quite the opposite, actually.

When toys are out of reach she responds in a very particular way. She studies them intently, focusing all her attention and effort on the object she wants most, she furrows her brow and tenses her muscles, and she puts all of her energy into very purposeful movement. However, despite the grand effort forward, the energy pushes her further away from what she wanted.

This is followed by a whimper of frustration and either another attempt, a diversion, or a break-down of gigantic proportions.

At this point I have several options.

I can let her keep trying, despite the momentary frustration, to hone her crawling skills by trial and error.

Or I can give her the toy she wants.

Most of the time, the most loving response is actually to let her cry through the exploration of her abilities and limitations. If I were to give her the toy every time, which is actually a more pleasant experience for me, she would never learn to crawl. She would think of me only as the person who entertains her, who fixes her problems, who fulfills her whims. Clearly this would not be an accurate view of reality, and if it were, we would have an even bigger issue. No one in her life should cater to this role.

In reality, when I am more focused on myself and how I feel, I am much more likely to intervene in her frustration for my own peace of mind. If I have a headache or would rather not have to pay close attention, it suits me much more pleasantly to shuffle in a new diversion the moment one loses its appeal.

Interestingly enough, though it may seem that I do not care about what she wants or how she feels, the most loving thing for me to do is to sit back and allow her to explore on her own. This does not mean that I am not protecting her; I certainly safeguard her wriggling to maintain a safe distance between her head and the corners of the walls and coffee table. This does not mean that I am not paying attention to her; my view of the situation is actually much more complete than her own.

My perspective, protection and patience actually help her learn and grow and develop despite the seemingly inactive role they sometimes produce. A few tears now will push her toward a much more enabled and fulfilling existence in just a short while.

Today I am grateful for the Lord's love that allows me to cry.

He is not my entertainer. Praise Him.

He is not the fixer of my problems. Praise Him.

He is not the fulfiller of my whims. Praise Him.

He is the Author and Perfecter of my faith. Praise Him.

He is the Creator of newness in my heart. Praise Him.

He is the Savior who has given the best and withholds no good thing. Praise Him.

One year ago my life was characterized by frequent bouts of crying for jobs and relationships and success on my terms, by my means, for my satisfaction and on my timeline.

This year the Lord has given me a glimpse of the perspective He has on my life, and I see that all those days I spent in tears before Him whimpering "why?" between sobs were not evidence of pointlessness, abandonment or disapproval. He was here, all along, protecting, paying attention, planning.

He is the One who works all things for the good of those who love Him and are called according to His purpose. His purpose is that I look more like Christ. And so He allows my tears to flow. Purifying tears that carry with them the shackles of sin and self-delight.

To have a heart more like Jesus', let me cry daily. Gratitude.

empty bottles

2010-11-13T17:53:00.000-08:00

Juliet frequently slurps every last drop from her bottles. I don't blame her. I'm a hungry girl too.

The other day she hurriedly got to the end of the formula but continued to suck at the air with steady ferocity. She enjoyed the motion, the sensation, the habit that is designed to procure nourishment even though the benefit had been exhausted.

On and on she went. I finally pulled the bottle out of her mouth so we could move on to burping, the only next step in a fully healthy meal.

I know I often do the same thing. I appreciate the motions so much that I hardly notice when Jesus is no longer the reward. Not that Jesus is ever in short supply; He is not. But at times I come to value the routines that lead to Jesus so much that I vigorously pursue them rather than Him.

I want to do whatever it takes to get to Him. Whatever music positions my heart to know Him. Whatever books illuminate the state of His heart and mine. Whatever relationships fuel my hunger for Truth. Whatever service softens my soul to know Him more.

I don't want to be caught up in the motions. I want the true Reward, the Richest of fare, the Bread of Life.

Introducing: Juliet

2010-10-23T19:00:00.000-07:00

For the last two and a half months I have had the privilege of spending 45 hours of my week with the sweetest baby I have ever known. Her name is Juliet Rose and we have become fast friends.

As Juliet has only recently completed her 5th month of life, learning from loving, caring for and playing with her has only just begun, but I feel confident that the next few months of development will show a dramatic increase in life applications from our daily interactions.

The first realization I had came in the first few days. Though I am not nearly her mother, caring for her has shed new light on a Biblical truth that I have known for years.

In Isaiah 49:15 God says, "Can a woman forget her nursing child, that she should have no compassion on the son of her womb? Even these may forget, yet I will not forget you."

Until August, I had only seen one aspect of this statement: the Lord is faithful to His people. Truth.

But as I fed Juliet on one of our first days together, I realized how much she NEEDS to be remembered. It is not just compassion from the heart of the caregiver that is astounding, but her survival is utterly dependent on the attentiveness of someone else.

She cannot eat if I do not remember to feed her.

She cannot be clean if I do not remember to change her diaper.

She cannot move or enjoy her world if I do not position her appropriately.

She cannot live.

Period.

Without the intervention of someone altogether more mature and capable, her existence would fail.

Horribly. Tragically. Rapidly.

Now she certainly would not exist at all if not for the actions of other individuals, but the life application is in her daily needs as a reflection of mine.

The only action step that Juliet may take toward having her needs met is to express her recognition of them. She can cry when she is hungry, wet or bored. After that, she is at the mercy of whoever hears her cry.

Juliet is capable only of expressing need. She does absolutely nothing else to enable me to provide for her. She does not mix her formula or make sure the bottles are clean. She does not restock the wipes or even leave her legs still to be changed. She does not turn her attention to a different interest that is also plainly in front of her.

Please do not misunderstand. These are by no means complaints about our relationship. They are merely observations, the realities of her current existence. And it is my joy to love on her by serving her in these ways.

But just as the baby is helpless apart from his mother's memory, I am hopeless apart from the Lord's. All my own efforts amount to screaming and writhing when what I need is to be washed, to be fed, to be loved. I must recognize and express my need for redemption, but I am utterly helpless in achieving it.

I cannot live rightly.

I cannot pay the penalty of my sins.

I cannot sacrifice an acceptable offering.

I cannot inherit the Spirit of God.

I cannot restore myself to the image of Christ.

I cannot live.

Period.

The Lord initiates my salvation from start to finish. He has given me no responsibilities. I am not capable of bearing a single one. He remembers me, and I live.

My mind reels as the implications multiply. How rich is the Word of God.

And as I consider the needs I meet that Juliet does not realize, I am humbled still. She knows she is hungry, but what does she know of bottled water and formula? She knows she is dirty, but what does she know of Pampers and wipes? She knows she is uncomfortable, but what does she know of laundry and pillows?

What would I know of Love?

What would I know of Joy?

What would I know of Peace?

God of Love.

Joyful King.

Prince of Peace.

Remembers me.

my heart belongs to the Holiday Inn Express

2010-10-06T12:07:00.000-07:00

I recently booked a night at the Holiday Inn Express for an event a few months from now.

We spent one night at the HI Express on our way to family vacation this summer. The stay was pleasant. So when I looked for a place to stay for an upcoming event, I checked out the options. Upon finding a discount and availability, I reserved a room for myself and a few other guests at the HI Express near our event.

Last weekend I drove from Atlanta to Winston-Salem to visit a friend. All along the way I looked for the Holiday Inn Express. Every such establishment I passed looked wonderful. I was ecstatic and rejoiced at every encounter.

Part of my interest was that I have never actually seen the hotel where I will be staying in a few months. I was hoping the general consensus along I-85N would indicate that the HI Express is a promising reservation in any location. My expectations were exceeded.

But on my drive home as I continued to spot and celebrate every Holiday Inn Express, I wondered why, with so much enthusiasm, I scoped out every “Lodging” sign along the interstate hoping to find a Holiday Inn to be proud of. Why was I suddenly so interested in each of these hotels that I will likely never stay in?

And then it hit me.

Because my money has been given to this establishment.

Wow.

All of a sudden what would never have earned a second glance became the landmark of my fancy, and all because $100 left my bank account to reserve a room.

One transaction.

One night.

One minor detail in a weekend that will have much more eternal consequences than two queen beds and a free breakfast.

That was all it took.

If anyone had been reading my thoughts on my road trip, they would have thought I had bought thousands of dollars in stock. No. Just one night’s stay.

And I am floored by the Truth of Jesus.

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Truth bomb.

I am not legitimately obsessed with the Holiday Inn Express. But I praise God for such a vivid reminder that my heart undeniably follows my money. I pray His Kingdom will always be the primary beneficiary of the income the Lord allows me to steward.

“Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Matthew 6:19-21

drenched

2010-10-06T11:34:00.000-07:00

Philippians 2:1-16 [and how my heart should read and respond]

So if there is any encouragement in Christ [I want to encourage others in You—use me],

any comfort from love [I need You to love genuinely through me],

any participation in the Spirit [I forfeit the opportunity for walking in the Spirit in community when my life is about me],

any affection and sympathy [only one source for genuine—Jesus Christ’s example],

complete my joy by being of the same mind [we all need to live in Your mindset, Lord Jesus],

having the same love [You made us to love this way],

being in full accord and of one mind [true harmony].

Do nothing from rivalry or conceit [let my service be genuine acts of love, never a competition or to prove I am better],

but in humility count others more significant than yourselves [humility, choosing to rank myself, my needs and desires, below those of the people around me; genuine and deep interest in my friends and family].

Let each of you look not only to his own interests [but boy, that comes naturally—my food, my news, my bedtime, my exercise],

but look also to the interests of others [their jobs, relationships, schedules, hopes, fears, joys, frustrations, pains].

Have this mind among yourselves [a command—help me obey, help me choose this mindset, help me know Truth so that this mindset is mine],

which is yours in Christ Jesus [a promise—help me know You more so I may claim it],

who, though He was in the form of God [form = very nature—let this sink in somehow, Father—the demotion even to leave heaven’s glory],

did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped [count? consider, esteem, regard—whatever His evaluation looked like, He did not act on His merited status but rather gave it to us; still He is God, Jesus released all the honor and privilege that was due Him—He did not hold onto His position to enjoy exclusively for Himself, He gave it to us, the only hope we had was in His ability and desire to sacrifice—my soul was worth more to Him than comfort and the joy of heaven],

but made Himself nothing [intentionally, did it to Himself, left all glory behind, to be considered, counted as lowly by men],

taking [because it was not His inherent nature]

the form [the very essence]

of a servant [bondservant—compelled to remain in service by love for master],

being born [BORN—God left all pomp and prestige, entered the world the messy, bloody, chaotic way, like every other man since Adam]

in the likeness of men [He took the likeness of men because we are no longer the likeness of God—He had to take on our likeness to restore it to its created glory].

And [as if that were not enough]

being found in human form [He made Himself available, findable],

He humbled Himself [SOME MORE]

by becoming obedient [being fully man, He did have a choice, but He obeyed, unlike us]

to the point of death [love required that distance of obedience—my own is so short-lived—He could have turned back, forsaken us all, but He obeyed even though it cost Him what little He had left, namely the presence of His Father and breath],

even death on a cross [as He entered like every other man, He left the world the messy, bloody, chaotic way that every man and woman deserves to die, in the place of and to save the souls of every other man since Adam--the most painful, degrading and obscene means of execution known to man at the time, killed cruelly as a display of what happens to transgressors, except that He was not one—the Romans crucified criminals so that everyone knew the consequences of mutiny—Jesus Christ was crucified because every one of us has mutinied against the Kingdom of God—only His cross, His substitution on my cross, opens wide the gate and stands as a sign of freedom from wrath for all who rejoin the Father by Him].

Therefore [because He so clearly earned and deserves it]

God has highly exalted Him [Him, Jesus Christ, no one else, not even me]

and bestowed on Him the name that is above every name [far above my name],

so that at the name of Jesus [speak Your name over me ceaselessly]

every knee should bow [acknowledging worth, honor, allegiance, deference],

in heaven and on earth [that’s me]

and under the earth, and every tongue confess [so that hearts and lives truly reveal]

that Jesus Christ is Lord [the Bondservant is my Master],

to the glory of God the Father [my reason for living].

Therefore [action item because all of this is true],

my beloved, as you have always obeyed [I wish I always had, but I want to—desperately],

so now, not only as in my presence [not so other people can see]

but much more in my absence [Lord, You know my inner heart],

work out your own salvation [living the life of Christ]

with fear and trembling [on purpose, recognizing the price He paid and the calling He’s made],

for it is God who works in you [praise Him! I am not trying in vain!],

both to will [You give desire for holiness, You inform my heart and my pursuits, You spur me on]

and to work [I make myself available, but You are the Refiner, the Craftsman, the Artist]

for His good pleasure [what You do in my heart and life is to bring You greater joy, love and glory—no other end result is as sweet, as worthwhile, as You].

Do [actually do]

all things [yes, all things]

without [lacking]

grumbling [complaining, getting huffy, having an attitude, feeling demoted or disrespected]

or questioning [be submissive, reliable, trusting that in all these things my Father is still working for His good pleasure],

that [for the following reason]

you may be [because He is interested in who I am becoming more than in what I am doing]

blameless [without fault]

and innocent [if I have been serving out of the love and example of Christ],

children of God [for that is my identity]

without blemish [above reproach]

in the midst [right alongside, surrounded by, despite my surroundings and even in contrast to]

of a crooked and twisted generation [who will take shortcuts, laugh at halfhearted work as a joke and sneer at faithfulness as a mockery, declare what is wrong to be right and what is right to be wrong, and use every opportunity to build “self” at the expense of others],

among whom [do not avoid them, be among but distinct from]

you shine [in purity and love]

as lights in the world [because Jesus, the Light of the world, lives in and through me],

holding fast [because I have to grasp something]

to the word of life [rather than power and prestige, hold Jesus, the One of greatest power and supreme prestige because He showed the greatest, humblest love],

so that [there is an ultimate goal]

in the day of Christ [however distant that rewarding day may be, when all Truth is revealed]

I may be proud that I did not run in vain or labor in vain [everything is meaningless and empty if I do not strive after Christ, all for naught if I have not revealed Him to an otherwise hopeless world by pursuing His humble love as an overflow from my heart to draw all men and women to Him].

october!

2010-10-01T20:28:00.000-07:00

New Testament. 1.

Weekend Visit with Lauren Baggett. 2-4.

Aunt Beth’s Birthday. 3.

“Beauty and the Beast” on DVD. 5.

Smelley and Rene’s 24^th Birthday. 8.

“Flags” by Brooke Fraser. 12.

Kimberly’s 23^rd Birthday. 15.

Stephen Graduates at Fort Knox. 15.

Two Half Days in One Week. 20, 22.

Becca’s Bachelorette. 22.

Week Off of Work. 25-29.

Becca and Josh’s Wedding. 30.

rain, rain

2010-09-26T11:21:00.000-07:00

There is something unspeakably delightful about rainy Sunday afternoons. Particularly rainy Sunday afternoons in the fall.

Cooler weather is coming. Despite the fact that the high is consistently 90 degrees throughout the month of September, we know the chill will begin to creep in.

Rainy days are a preview. The rain is just cool enough to chill your bones as you pass from rain to air conditioning.

So I sit in my corner chair. Criss-cross applesauce. Snowflake pajama pants. Oversized, nerd-prized sweatshirt. Green, moose-covered socks with brakes (as my uncle would call them).

A nap will be nice. I'll get to that, I am quite certain.

But for a minute or two more, I want to sit, listen, find meaning in the rain.

It is pinging off of the roof and echoing down the water heater shaft next to my bed.

Thunder rolls in the distance and gently pulses in my chest.

The leaves flicker with the repetitive impact of rain droplets.

Everything is darker. Deeper. Richer. Saturated.

The leaves are not quite as brightly tinted as they were a few weeks ago. It takes me a solid minute of observation, but I realize that they are beginning to change. Soon their death will be a brilliant display on every corner and in every wooded view.

The rain makes life heavy. Limbs droop with the weight of water.

Change is coming. And a painful change at that.

The warmth of the sun will likely slip away even as this shower ends. The powerful rays absorbed for nutrition will weaken gradually. What is now green and thriving will begin to starve and fade.

And such is life. Not meant for homeostasis. Not meant for status quo. Not meant to stagnate.

Soon, death. And after that, new life. Though death is most certainly necessary first.

My eyelids get heavy. I am lulled to sleep by the plinking of water on the roof over my head.

And I give thanks.

For said roof.

For those with whom I am richly blessed to share it.

For one year and three weeks of life under this roof.

For change.

For the painful, refining moments of the last year and three weeks.

For seasons of dreariness, monotony, frustration.

For the strain of saturation.

For life.

For what the Lord breathes into death.

For a heart awakened to freedom, gratitude, love, boldness and discipline.

For sanctification.

For change.

For all that is to come.

For the glory of today and of tomorrow.

For evidence of my Heavenly Father's faithfulness.

For seasons.

For reminders that He has a purpose.

For His sovereignty and handiwork on display for the world to see.

For seasons of weather and seasons of life.

For grace.

For direction.

For love and for joy.

For rest.

For Every Season.

Every evening sky, an invitation to trace the patterned stars.

And early in July, a celebration for freedom that is ours.

And I notice You in children's games, in those who watch them from the shade.

Every drop of sun is full of fun and wonder.

You are Summer.

And even when the trees have just surrendered to the harvest time.

Forfeiting their leaves in late September and sending us inside.

Still I notice You as change begins and I am braced for colder winds.

I will offer thanks for what has been and what's to come.

You are Autumn.

And everything in time and under heaven finally falls asleep.

Wrapped in blankets white, all creation shivers underneath.

And I notice You when branches crack and in my breath on frosted glass.

Even now in death You open doors for life to enter.

You are Winter.

When everything that's new has bravely surfaced, teaching us to breathe.

What was frozen through is newly purposed, turning all things green.

So it is with You and how You make me new with every season's change.

And so it will be as You are recreating me.

Summer, Autumn, Winter, Spring.

Potty Literature

2010-09-24T11:59:00.000-07:00

I am a reader. Fact.

I read everything. Multiple times. Every time I see it. Compulsively.

On the tube of toothpaste: “For best results squeeze tube from bottom and flatten.”

On cereal boxes: “To open, lift tab and slide finger to left and right.” “To close, insert tab here.”

On the back of Mergs’ car: “America’s greatest little city, LaGrange, Ga.”

Above the sink in restaurant bathrooms: “Employees must wash hands before returning to work.”

On a book coming down the stairs at Juliet’s house: “Ambulatory Medicine.”

On our fridge: “Pray for Katie.”

Perhaps you’re beginning to get the picture. It is a frustrating obsession.

However, sometimes I do read meaningful things. And I hear from the Lord in the most random places.

Most recently: the guest bathroom at the McCormick’s house.

Above the hand towel: “No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9.

I do love my water, so I had the privilege of reading this framed verse a handful of times in the five hours I spent in the McCormick home.

Though I have heard this verse for most of my life and even experience this Truth on a regular basis, it struck me in a new way as I studied it that Sunday afternoon.

The joy and pleasure of heaven is beyond our wildest imagination, utterly incomprehensible, sweeter than our most precious hopes.

What He has prepared for us in new creation is that which we were made for in the beginning: Himself. Unhindered physical, spiritual, mental and emotional access to the glorious Creator awaits us. The most intimate and delightful fellowship with the Originator and Definition of Love is ours. The faintest longings of our souls at this very moment will be infinitely satisfied in the One who made us in His image. We cannot be complete until we rest in Him.

He is so Otherly.

No eye has seen—because everything we see is fallen.

Nor ear heard—because the notes of Perfection are imperceptible to ears marred by lies and mutiny.

Nor the heart of man imagined—because our sin nature cripples our imagination.

What God has prepared—and what painstaking preparation it has required. He first conceived the idea, pursued the rescue mission, paid the blood-price to invite us in, conquered death that we may enjoy Him eternally, and granted His Spirit to live within the hearts of His followers, all that our names may be written in His Book of Life.

For those who love Him—if the heart does not love God, there is no inheritance. Desire is paramount from both the Pursuer and the pursued. The Pursuer has made His move. He pursues still.

I had always read this with the present in mind, with this life in mind. I thought, “Sure, God’s plans for my life one year, one decade, one-quarter century from now, are much better and far more glorious than anything I can fathom.” And I do believe that is true.

But how much more wonderful is the hope of heaven! That He loves us so perfectly to offer us what is best, the satisfaction we were created for.

He offers us Himself.

Today.

Tomorrow.

And every tomorrow after that.

Sleepless Savior

2010-09-12T13:03:00.000-07:00

Wrote this summer 2009, found it today, posting it because.....He said to.

Sleepless Savior,

hold my hand,

kiss my heavy eyes with love,

because I'm restless

and I'm striving

to hold what You're in control of.

I wait for You,

the wings You promise,

For You are faithful timelessly

Never weary, I am trusting

Sleepless Savior carries me

reciprocity.

2010-09-12T13:00:00.000-07:00

Father, so many thoughts about this day,

this life,

this time,

this Word.

Reciprocity, theme of year.

You, him, faith, love.

Reciprocity conquers sin.

Reciprocity breathes life.

My heart is full,

Words are painfully inadequate.

Breaking through the noise some days,

Crashing through the silence others,

Your still, small voice,

Your strong, sure voice,

"I love you. That is all."

As all slip through my fingers,

self-righteousness,

pride,

fear,

got-my-act-togetherness,

Your sweet words envelope me.

"I love you. That is all."

Not a guilt trip, not a scolding.

Gentle reminders of what You promise.

Unending,

unshakable,

undeserved,

unfathomable,

uninhibited.

Love.

All at once both strikingly free and immeasurably costly.

The wrath I earned was exchanged.

Before I knew,

before I could ask,

before I realized,

before I lived.

Love.

And now in my heart.

Indwelling Love.

Powerful, conquering, sin-squelching.

And when I try to fight,

when pride twists my thoughts, my motives, my mind,

when I want to look most holy.

Love.

Humility immediately follows.

So lead me.

Destroy me.

Recreate me.

For Your glory.

Because Your love, it overwhelms, it drowns.

To be plunged into Your ocean of grace,

response is only one of gratitude, praise,

dependence,

trust,

simply to the cross I cling.

Love.

All my life, embodiment of reciprocity.

Love. Boldness. Discipline.

Love.

the striped throne

2010-08-05T07:37:00.000-07:00

The pastor of Atlanta Westside opened the Sunday morning service this week with a prayer that has played through my mind over and over in the days since.

He prayed, "Heavenly Father, we come before Your throne as children running to their father's lap as he sits in his easy chair."

You see, Daddy used to sit in a blue and white striped chair. I suppose it might be classified as a recliner, but it came with a matching ottoman that gets pulled around the living room to this day. Though the chair has been recovered in a light yellow to match the French redecoration that overwhelmed the main floor, and though it now sits in a corner watching its lesser half monopolize utility, that chair is special.

On any given evening during my early childhood, you would be hard-pressed to find me anywhere other than in that chair next to Daddy. We ate popcorn and watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy almost every night.

The thought never crossed my mind that that chair was designed for only one person. I cannot recall a single moment's hesitation to climb up in that chair, wedge myself comfortably (for me at least, though I'm sure Daddy took an elbow to the ribs on more than one occasion) between the armrest and my big, cozy dad, and help myself to all the privileges that position entitled me to.

The primary highlight, and the thing I remember most, was the popcorn. Daddy would fix us a snack in his Stir Crazy Popcorn Popper and we would put it down while we watched our shows. Not that he needed any help at all to finish off that huge bowl (some things never change), but I had a special job. Anytime he dropped a piece, I would snag it off his tummy and eat it. Writing that now makes it sound weird, but I thought it was the funniest thing. It gave me something to chuckle at, it made me feel needed, it somehow deepened my love for Daddy.

The other activity for which that chair was utterly essential was Beauty Shop. Daddy and I loved to play hair! On a few occasions he styled mine too, but for the most part I delighted to go to work washing, conditioning, cutting and accessorizing his hair. For these appointments, Daddy would slide off the chair and onto the floor to lean up against it as I set up shop above him. I would vigorously wash and condition his hair with all my might. Then I skillfully clipped every barrette in my possession (an impressive collection) into Daddy's hair. These events were eagerly anticipated by both of us!

Sitting in that striped chair with Daddy may be one of my most meaningful childhood memories.

My heart has not been able to let go of that prayer since Sunday. I have continued to pray about the statement and ponder what it means to truly approach the throne of grace as a child of God. And every time I think about it, I think about Daddy, and I think about the chair.

I think of confidence.

So often when I think about approaching the throne of grace with confidence, I feel the need to muster it up, to put it on, to talk myself into the right, free mindset that has been promised to Christians. It is almost as if I need to convince myself.

When I think about how I climbed into the chair with my dad, I realize I never gave it a conscious thought. I never questioned my welcome. I never questioned my right. I never questioned his generosity. I never questioned the depth of our affection. I was his daughter. Therefore, everything that he enjoyed was mine to enjoy as well. The chair, the popcorn, the television. Of course I would take my place next to him. That was where I belonged. I can only imagine that any question of these affections would break the heart of such a loving parent.

I so desire to approach my Heavenly Father with this confidence. Confidence in His heart that is lodged so deeply within mine that I never question His generosity or affection, His sacrifice or love. Just as there was never a need for analysis when I approached the striped chair, never a need for hesitation, I want my adoption as a daughter of God to course so freely through my veins that I never for a moment keep my heart from my Father.

"Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." Hebrews 4:16

I think of joy.

Daddy and I both enjoyed our time in the chair. Especially Beauty Shop time. Daddy got a thorough scalp massage, I got to play with hair. What more could we ask for? We enjoyed each other. It was simple. It was sweet. It was life-giving.

The more my heart grows away from inhibition, the more my Father and I may enjoy one another. Free to laugh, free to enjoy, free to cry, free to be.

"For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, 'Abba! [Daddy!] Father!'" Romans 8:15

I think of relationship.

When Daddy was at work, I never thought twice about sitting in that chair. My default reclining location of choice was on the love seat any other time of day. The chair was just that, a chair, unless Daddy was there. He was the highlight. He was the prize. His love was my delight. Not comfort. Not food. Not employment. Daddy.

In the same way, the throne of God, the expanse of heaven, is meaningless if He is not there. No space is worth inhabiting if the great I AM is not found there. The promise of a throne is empty unless it is overwhelmed by the presence of Jesus Christ. Even His throne is just a chair unless the Lord God is seated there.

"The one who conquers, I will grant him to sit with me on my throne, as I also conquered and sat down with my Father on his throne." Revelation 3:21

Thank you, Daddy, for loving me in a way that reveals the heart of God for me. I know my understanding is still so limited, but I am undeserving and grateful to have you as my earthly father. We, as in me and God, love you so much.

more insight from Liam on seeking

2010-07-22T14:00:00.000-07:00

Liam showed me the other aspect of the soul in hide-and-seek yesterday. The Atlanta heat and humidity gave me the opportunity to be his indoor jungle jim as we played in his tent and connecting tunnel. Given my size relative to the tent, I did not have the option of moving around and looking for him. Still he made a game out of finding me halfway in and halfway out over and over and over again. He crawled through the tent door over my hips, rolled onto the floor in front of me, sat up and proudly announced, "Hi!" Then he would race through the tunnel to come around and do it all over again. Despite the fact that I was always right where he left me, I realized he was enjoying the search too.

We were made to be searching all life long. Yes, we deeply desire to be found, but we also know we have to pursue something beyond what is offered by culture or politics or our parents. And in our searching we are found.

Great happiness is found in finding something for which one has searched. If I never search for anything, I am never delighted by finding anything. The search is indicative of desire, of hope, of aspiration, of need.

How much greater then is the elation when we find more than what we were looking for? Several months ago I looked in an old wallet for coupons and found $115 instead. Coupons would have been exciting, but I was beside myself when I found cash. In the same way, Liam loves to find me, but when he finds a ridiculous expression on my face or when I scoop him up to hug and tickle him he is even more enthusiastic about finding me than before.

Our role in the divine story of hide-and-seek is not a passive one. God is the Author of all searching and of all being found. He is passionate about finding us because we bear His image. But He is equally passionate about being found by us because our greatest delight in Him is His glory.

We are made in His image and therefore come to life in both searching for Him and being found by Him. We do not earn holiness or privilege by searching for Him; all merit was won by Jesus Himself. But we know and enjoy Him most when we set our hearts toward finding Him in all things.

Eternal joy is found in searching for Jesus Christ. He wants to be found. And He will always be greater than we ever dreamed.

"You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you, declares the Lord,..." Jeremiah 29:13-14

"Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the man who takes refuge in him!" Psalm 34:8

still playing peek-a-boo

2010-07-20T07:23:00.000-07:00

Liam has taught me many spiritual life lessons these past 11 months. Our last week together is proving to be no different.

We have played some version of peek-a-boo almost every day we've spent together. Whether it has been the literal game where I cover my face and then shout "peek-a-boo!" as I move my hands away, or the simplified 2-year-old version of hide-and-seek, we have had several hours of fun looking for each other.

Yesterday as I changed Liam's post-nap diaper, he put his hands over his eyes and the game began again: "Where's Liam?! I cannot find him anywhere! Where did he go??" With the biggest smile and my favorite giggle he quickly put his hands down and relished my exaggerated look of surprise and relief over having found him. He laughed his deep belly laugh and quickly covered his face again. We could have continued indefinitely.

Some days the game is that simple. Some days he actually hides himself behind the kitchen curtains so I have to rustle through them to find him. But I realized yesterday that he will always love being found. I still love it. And I bet you still love it too (although I doubt we really think about it that regularly).

The thrill takes different forms as we grow older, but the relief and excitement of being found is imprinted on our souls just the same. Sure, I still enjoy hide-and-seek when I babysit, but I more deeply enjoy being known, understood, and pursued as time goes on. There is deep satisfaction to be found in sharing one's soul with friends. I see this with my roommates: they see my sin on a regular basis, yet they pursue time with me, they find and love me despite my sin, and we grow closer every time we know each other better and choose to love each other more.

Or think of nicknames. I have more nicknames right now than I have ever had in my life. To be honest, there are several that I did not prefer when they first came into use. But there is something about a nickname that endears the hearts of those who use them. To my way of thinking, a nickname says, "I know you too well to call you what everyone else calls you. I've begun to find out who you really are and I have no intention of stopping right here."

Kelly Clarkson even speaks on behalf of the human race through her platform in pop culture in her song, "You Found Me."

"You found me when no one else was looking

How did you know just where I would be?

Yeah, you broke through all of my confusion

The ups and the downs and you still didn't leave

I guess that you saw what nobody could see

You found me."

I think we were designed for this. Someone is looking for us. He always has been. He always will be.

"Rejoice with me, for I have found my sheep that was lost...Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin that I had lost...It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead and is alive; he was lost, and is found." Luke 15

"O Lord, you have searched me and known me!...Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there!...For you formed my inward parts;...How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!...Search me, O God, and know my heart!" Psalm 139

writing out of the pit

2010-07-07T15:37:00.000-07:00

In my mind I am a wretch

Stark reality is filth

Boils of pride, consumed with self

Wreaking violent guilt

Eyes cast down see only sin

Hopelessness enshrouds

Suffocated, choking cough

Engulfed in hell's hot clouds

But then I know You with me

Scandalous meeting here

Holy God to wretched girl

Whispers something in my ear

They are love words soft and pure

Set all my tear drops free

Soothing warmth heals inside out

His blood is liberating me

Blessed power from the throne

Of the One who became sin

Precious presence of His grace

Letting me begin again

Born anew in Spirit life

No longer blistered, bruised and sore

Robes of righteousness now mine

The cost too great to now forget

Or not believe the Truth

Faithful Love is faithful still

Though object is uncouth

Power flows when mind is set

Spirit-fixed is life

Death abounds on days of flesh

Source of crushing strife

Love so steady hems me in

Before and behind

Present, attentive, listening

Eager for me to find

Blessed tomb stands empty still

Though Enemy's contradictory

I spoke with Christ this morning

He's giving me His victory

Tashi's 24! (and 2.5 months)

2010-07-07T15:15:00.000-07:00

Tashi's birthday was in April, but because I didn't get to see her until the 4th of JUly, I couldn't post the central portion of her gift until now. She's probably my most faithful follower anyway, so now you have an electronic copy, Tash :)

I love you!

Dear Tash,

My first thought when I met you was

"She's too old to be my friend!"

I would have laughed if I had known

How far that would be from the end!

We went for pads and pretzels

(at least we rode with style!)

But we left with something new

Not found on any grocery aisle

See, I was praying for a friend

And my mom was praying too

So into freshman loneliness

Jesus sweetly gave me you

It really started with a hug

(which of course makes great sense now)

And as many brown couch late nights

As our schedules would allow

Jennifer's toothbrush, naming Scooty

And our first 4th of JUly

Laid foundations for a friendship

Born of our Savior's sweet supply

For when we ask within His will

His blessings never hesitate

He knows and meets us promptly

Never early, never late

Sunday nights spent praying

Eternally wrote you on my soul

We learned to honor Him by asking BIG

Proclaiming He holds all control

Oh the prayers we've seen Him answer!

Rhymes cannot contain them all!

Abby, Bo, AXO, AGD, China, President, Celanese, Rach & Petey

Not to mention thousands small!

And though we grow together

We have our finer moments too

Oh the laughs that come to mind

As I try to name a few

"Let's make ringtones!" "Let's sit and read!"

"Let's take this spiritual gifts test!"

Of all our great ideas

"Old Pride and Prejudice!" was our best

We sure know our Zac Efron

Thanks to HSM and Hairspray

We know how to repair bumpers

With strings found on the freeway

We should have known that at the beach

Our fair skin burns without sunscreen

"Step Up" was a double feature

'Cause it's the best we'd ever seen!

Belting "Wicked" while in Hannah

You came as my formal date

"Oh there were 7 dwarves!!"

Tash, you're often a bit late ;)

You laughed at "August Rush"

Though I still don't quite know why

But when you saw me you laughed harder

Because my eyes were far from dry

We crashed at Alpha Chi Omega

Late one night in San Diego

But by far my favorite pastime

Is classification by potato

I am so glad to have you with me

As we search for zesty curly fries and sweet potato soufflé

No one else has shared my heart

In remotely the same way

You have been faithful, you are true

Even when it's hard to hear

And though our lives are far apart

Our hearts are always very near

No one else has been so loyal

You have pushed me toward the throne

And our Jesus deserves all glory

For the ways in which we've grown

You are nerdy through and through

You are nerdy to your core

But that's where Jesus reigns supreme

As the one that you adore

Thank you for sharing Him with me

Over all these last four years

So we may love Him more and more

On that great day when He appears

We will worship Him forever

Together grateful, on our knees

Captivated by His splendor

Making new all the eye sees

Love,

Kate

WITH, not WHAT

2010-06-29T07:28:00.000-07:00

In a recent sermon series at Buckhead Church about the prodigal son, one of the teachers focused a week on the older son who was really just as rebellious and hateful as the younger. The only difference was that he covered it up with all the right actions until he reached his breaking point.

When the young squanderer was welcomed home with celebration and feasting, the do-good-er was irate. After years and years of obedience and compliance, everything in the older brother was outraged that all his service was ignored while the return of one so flagrantly self-absorbed was the cause of great rejoicing. In true older sibling fashion, he refused to join in the festivities and pouted outside until his father checked his dignity by the door to seek reconciliation with his other child.

Older brother's built-up bitterness spills out. He has slaved for his father faithfully for years. Why has he never been celebrated? This other son has spent every last cent on prostitutes and parties only to spark the biggest one he's ever seen upon returning. Why, after all older brother has done, has he not been rewarded or even recognized?

The father understands. Older brother and younger brother have both missed his heart. He says to older brother, "Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours." Older brother went on and on about WHAT he had done to deserve more than younger brother, never realizing that the celebration for his sibling was not over WHAT he had done, but the fact that he was reunited WITH his father.

WITH, not WHAT.

The Father wants our hearts WITH Him, not our bodies doing WHAT we think will impress or appease Him.

My mom embodies this perfectly.

She will do ANYTHING for our family to all just be WITH each other. When I am home, she stops whatever she is doing so that she can be with me. She even does things to serve me so that we can be together.

Just this weekend she sat on my bathroom floor and painted my toenails while I dried my hair. I know, she's ridiculous.

But I am so grateful for the constant reminder that my heart, my affection and my presence before Him is what my Heavenly Father desires and celebrates. Yes, actions that please Him flow out of my heart when I am WITH Him, but togetherness is what He wants, what He died to facilitate, what I live to pursue.