sharing Daddy

My dad is the best. He really is.

He is a humble servant--the most go-with-the-flow, others-before-self, always-there man.

He is a hard worker for good purposes--commuting more than one thousand miles each month to provide for his family, diligent in all his tasks, yard man, maintenance supervisor, sound guru, drummer, runner.

He is an encourager to the core--always uplifting, truthful and loving, an eye for what people do well.

He is a Jesus-loving man--knowing Jesus more each year, using those miles and miles of traffic war for prayer, and ever more concerned for the things that God is concerned for, generous to a fault.

He is a faithful husband, an excellent father--a good man.

He is the kind of father who makes it easy to understand why God is good, why He wants a relationship with us as a Father to His children. 

Verses like, "As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him,"

and like, "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! Father!'" so easy to relate to. 

God's heart for me is like the heart of Mark Lawrence toward me...only perfect, and better, and all-knowing, and glorious.

But still, it isn't a difficult connection to make, no stretch there. And I am so grateful.

I listen to my friends and acquaintances (not all, but many--more than I would have imagined) talk about their dads and the wounds they have, the jilted worldviews they had thrust upon them, the passivity that leaves them suffering today. Although I hope I've never said it aloud, as I hear these stories my heart is always breaking as I think to myself, "I wish I could share Daddy with her...I wish she had my dad too...Let my dad be your dad."

And as I thought of this again yesterday, I realized it is my favorite thing about my daddy: he is so good he would be worth sharing if that were possible. If all my friends who are literally fatherless or are emotionally, spiritually, practically fatherless could be adopted by Mark Lawrence, I would sign them up in a heartbeat, start their paperwork, raise the money to pay for it, the whole nine yards.

Clearly, that is not possible.

But I know what is, and I am so grateful for the glimpse I get of it from my relationship with Daddy. 

My Heavenly Daddy is so good, so perfectly loving and just that He gave the life of His only Son so that I could be adopted into His family. Not only did Jesus take away the punishment for the natural state of my heart that chooses myself over God every single time, but He also gave me the perfection that He lived on this earth. He gave me His spotlessness so that I might wear it before my Father and find full acceptance and love and privilege. 

Jesus, precious Jesus, came to this earth to take our brokenness and lead us to His Dad, to say, "I want to share Daddy with you...I want you to have my Dad too...Let my Dad be your Dad." 

Come into the family, He says. All are welcome, all is taken care of. Let His favor and approval rest on you under Jesus' blood. Let His open arms embrace you with healing for all of those wounds, every sore. Let Him protect you now, let Him hold you now, let Him provide for you, let Him overjoy you. Come into Love.

How deep the Father's love for us,

How vast beyond all measure

That He should give His only Son

To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss,

The Father turns His face away

As wounds which mar the chosen One,

Bring many sons to glory...

Happy Father's Day, Daddy-Mark. Thank you. I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

proud of this man

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?

single ladies, this is what you're looking for

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."

toddler school drop out

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.

words.

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!

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

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

my second favorite engagement of 2010

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

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

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!

october!

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.

the striped throne

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.

Tashi's 24! (and 2.5 months)

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