The Day Called Easter

The day called Easter is past.
It came through as a storm, blazing through the hearts of men.
It came to us all differently--Mass, Sonrise service, a family gathering.
HE came to us all the same. Carrying a cross, Fire in His eyes. Sorrow in His Spirit. Death to His body.

But only for a moment.

Friends, the day called Easter is past but His truth is burning in my heart!

Christ has laid death in his grave.
He has led captivity captive!
With the words "It is FINISHED"
He accomplished the great and dreadful deed-
to become my sin.
my shame.
my sorrow.
my death.

He became my death.

But oh! How weak my death is in the hands of a MIGHTY and RIGHTEOUS God!
As the chains of my death surrounded Him, in the earth-shattering moment of "My God, My God, why have You forsaken Me?,"
He had a thought.
He thought of me.
He thought of you.

And though our darkness heaped upon Him, layer by layer, He knew it pleased the Father to do this.
He thought of me.
He thought of you.

And as He gave His Spirit, (for no one takes it from Him, but He lays it down willingly) He had a thought.
He thought of me.
He thought of you.
And do not be deceived, for the "me and you" that Christ thought of is far greater than the "me and you" that we perceive!
He did not see us in our sin, for in that moment He WAS our sin, but rather He saw us with Him. In our glorified bodies, praising Him eternally!
And because of this hope, this glory, this ultimate design, He, with a sweeping motion, ripped off the chains, unable to be bound.
He banished my death! He overturned my sin! He binds the chains to themselves. They are rendered powerless!
O Death, where is your sting?
O Hades, where is your victory?

My Lord rules over the earth and the heavens, a glorified King!
MY GOD IS VICTORY.
And my God is forever good.
Amen.

Home Is Wherever I'm With You

So as I'm sitting down to write this post, that waywaywayWAY overplayed song by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros is pulsing through my mind.

Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is wherever I'm with you
Ahh, Home
Let me come Home
Home is when I'm alone with you

Ha. Now it's in your head too. Let's suffer together for a minute. Sorry I'm not sorry. 

Ok no but really. Going to Hawaii, my dear home, for Thanksgiving was the best thing ever for me. I had a "Your-Life-In-Perspective" Aneurism.

Ok so yeah sure, I was real homesick for the first couple months I was here. Pining for home might even be the appropriate term.  You all know that story.

And I think you've all heard me say that, Hallelujah, Thank you Jesus, after those few months, I feel like myself again. 

I laugh a lot and sing even more. I am so grateful for the family the Lord is establishing around me here.

But something clicked for me while I was back home. Something much deeper than what words can really express. Which is why, naturally, I chose to blog on it. 

As I sat in the quiet of my old living room, sitting with my Bible open and my mom's Keurig coffee in front of me, I began to reflect on all the Lord has done with me in the past few months. A verse began to resonate with me:

For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. ¹² If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, ¹³ their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work. ¹⁴ If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward. ¹⁵ If it is burned up, the builder will suffer loss but yet will be saved—even though only as one escaping through the flames.

  

Well. Not a verse for the faint of heart or the fair-weather Christian. As I reflected on my time here the last 4 months, I know that some of my time here will pass through the fire and burn up as hay and stubble. Those months I spent worshiping with a selfish heart, wasting time fulfilling my own desires of my flesh, serving God out of vain conceit. 

But...

I also know, without a doubt, that there have been foundation building moments that will emerge as gold. I know the context of this verse and though I might be running a little far with it, I feel that my personal foundation with the Lord is the one on the altar stone in this picture.

I know my time here is not in vain! As I sat staring at those stupid glorious mountains outside of my window, I knew that I am exactly where I am supposed to be in life. That without a doubt, this is where the Lord has called me. Not to the ocean, or the mountains, or the most relaxed coffee shop job in the world on Oahu. 

But to Fountain Valley ("A Nice Place to Live"). The suburbs. Orange County. And here's the best part--I couldn't wait to come back. I was so full of joy at the thought of returning to be with my Circles family. To be back in school of worship. To be back home. 

As I sat thinking of the GOOD things He has done, each of you came to my mind. What a good gift (or 30 gifts i should say) He's given me! 

What an amazing chance to do His kingdom work! 

What an amazing thing to make my home in Christ. 

Now I get it, albeit in a different way than those silly Magnetic Zeros, but I get it...

Home is wherever I'm with You.

  

He Sent a Helper

"In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit Himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express."  -Romans 8:26


"What am I doing here?"


This one question I have asked consistently since arriving to California. In my season of doubt, it poured forth as a groaning of my spirit, asking how this girl wound up in this place, surrounded by a living Urban Outfitters catalog and wondering when she could jump on a plane back home. 

"What am I doing here?"

Ah, but now my mission is clear. I am no longer struggling to find out how I ended up here. I know the answer: The faithful I AM has brought me here. To worship Him. To know Him better.

 And yet, the question remains. 

Perhaps it is not so much "what am I doing here?" as much as it is "HOW am I still here?"

So SO SO SO many times I wanted to quit. So many times I decided this life--in this weird, cold alternate universe I was living in--was not worth hanging around to see what God called me to. If indeed God was even real. I'm out. Peace. 

"How am I still here?"

As I came out of my dry and doubting season, I realized that no amount of strength or persistence or steadfastness on my part has kept me forging forth. I now know that in my times of doubt, when I decided that I knew better than the Creator and this was NOT where I was called, in my times of scouring the internet for plane tickets home "just for fun," a Great High Priest was pleading for me. He was speaking a secret language with the Father that I would never be able to express--because my mortal words fail to dictate the will of God. 

And He who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God's will.

When I prayed for redemption from a physical place in my life, the Spirit prayed for my redemption from the hardness of my own heart. When I prayed to be released by the Lord, to just have Him let go of me, the Son triumphed in His mighty prayer next to the right hand of God, "This one has been bought with a price, We won't let her go."

Therefore the Son is able to save completely those who come to God through Him, because He always lives to intercede for them. Hebrews 7:25

Be encouraged with me. 

Whatever we face, we know that His perfect will for our lives is written in perfect love. 

That His ways are always perfect, even when our lives aren't. 

That He wants His perfect will for our lives and knows exactly how to, and does, pray for it. 

And that as we cry out to Him, He is already interceding for us in a way beyond what we can articulate. He speaks with the same heart as His prayer that kept Christ on the cross--so that it would be accomplished. 

Before the throne of God above,

I have a strong and perfect plea

a great High Priest whose name is Love

who ever lives and pleads for me

My name is graven on His hands

My name is written on His heart

I know that while in heaven He stands

No tongue can bid me thence depart

In Leanness I Learn to Lean

I apologize in advance for the length of this post. I promise I will practice brevity in future posts!
 
Though none go with me, still I will follow. No turning back. No turning back. 
The words played in my head as I sat on a plane heading to LAX. It was August. As I closed the chapter of my life in Hawaii, I had such an assurance of the life before me in L.A.

Worship School. Bible all the time. Singing all the time. New church. New friends. New adventures. 

That was two months ago.

And it was about two months ago that I lost myself.

Now let me explain, although the content of this story may seem dark, I am writing it from the end of the journey--from the part that has finally reached the light. Not to say I have arrived yet by any means, but as I write about my recent dark months, I no longer feel the darkness associated with them. Words cannot express the overwhelming gratitude I possess when I think about how I no longer have to feel the darkness that was surrounding me.

To be honest, it started before August. A question here, a doubt there. A justification every once in a while. But it was in August, that I really lost myself.

I packed up my room, threw away 80% of my clothes (which I only occasionally regret when laundry day comes too soon), said goodbye to my family and friends, and came to a new and strange land called California.
Nothing was familiar. Everything uncertain. No car. No job. No house. No family. No real sense of security. With my new uncertain life came one assurance: I didn't know what I was doing here.

Aside from the occasional, normal doubt here and there, the days leading up to my new adventure were hopeful ones. Exciting ones. Ones full of faith.

But it all faded so fast, a Ruth filled with faith seemed to be a far off, idealistic dream.

The beginning of my time here began with me opening my Bible each morning, pulling out my journal and waiting to hear from the Lord. Every morning differed in the content of the lesson and the consistency of hearing His voice, but one thing remained the same: I doubted. I doubted everything I read.
I opened the scriptures, heard Jesus say something in a parable and left doubting that He ever really meant what He said. Sometimes I doubted that He was who He said He was. Sometimes I doubted that He knew what He was even saying.

And then. The other side of me would chime in.
Jesus is the Son of God, Ruth. He is real. He loves you. He died for you. He wants to speak to you. He has spoken to you before. HE IS REAL. 
Isn't He?

I'm not entirely sure where the switch happened. From faith to fear to doubts. As my external securities faded, I began to distrust the internal ones. The ones that had brought me here in the first place.

On it went. Eventually I stopped opening my Bible each morning. Eventually I started to hear more and more from myself about how I made a wrong decision to come here, how I felt alone, how I dont belong here.
Even IF God is real, He doesn't want to talk to me.  
On it went. I still read my Bible because it's really hard to be in a School of Worship and not read your Bible when it's your homework. This kept the internal battle, the fighting for my soul alive within me. I'm sure that's the only thing. (The Word of God is living and active. It is powerful.)

 I will tell you one thing, It's not hard to be in a School of Worship and not worship. That's easy if your heart's not in the right place.

Fast forward to Seek Week. I felt desperate for Seek Week. Because I was desperate to find out, once and for all, if God really wanted to speak to me. Finally, I would meet the Lord if He was who He said He was.

So I committed to being there. I committed to showing up and seeking. I went at 6 am. I went at 7pm. I was there nearly every day, morning and/or night. Seeking.

But my doubt was great. Throughout the week, I listened, I sang, I cried, I hoped. I doubted.
I waited for that moment. That "bursting forth" moment. Where God made the sun stand still, wrote on the wall, talked through a donkey...anything that was CLEARLY from Him.
There were moments and glimpses of Him. No talking donkeys though.

So Friday came.

Ok, God. You have ONE more night to talk to me. If You're really here, You have one more night. 

I don't remember what the sermon was. And I don't remember what the invitation was to come up for prayer. All I know is that in that moment, I heard nothing and everything all at once.

Ruth, I see you.

 It was His still small voice. I knew it well from times past. But it was so faint.
It wasn't enough. I needed someone to lay hands on me and tell me that the Lord says He sees me.

Eventually I was standing at the front. Somehow, with eyes closed I made it up to the front (blind walking through a crowded church is not recommended btw).
And I waited. And waited. And waited.
Finally, a woman came by to pray for me. She laid her hands on me.
Without a distinct word from the Lord, I KNEW that He wasn't going to reveal anything about me to her.

Rude. 

She stood there for 5 minutes praying silently over me. Waiting. And waiting. And waiting.
Is there anything I can pray specifically for you?
I laughed. She prayed. And the Lord waited to speak to me till she left.

In not hearing, I heard.
The Lord was calling me to seek Him. On my own. In quite place of my own heart. He knew that if I heard a word through another human, I would put what little faith I had left in their words. In them.
He knew I needed to hear from Him for myself. So He waited. And waited. And waited.

And finally we met each other. Me, in broken humility and lovesickness. Him, in grace and glory.

And through all of this, these two months of wandering, I can say,
That I know beyond doubt. Beyond fear. And beyond the weakness of my human heart that
When we are faithless,
He remains faithful.
He cannot deny Himself.
He has not denied Himself.

And through all of this, I can say, I feel like myself again.
I have been found.
And I have been found in Christ.

Introduction: 46 Days

It's September 30th. I've officially been in California for 46 days now. But for the amount of growing I've done in this time here, it might as well be two years.

In 46 days I found a place to live, bought a car, had a car get smashed in and totaled, made new friends, started a new school, joined a new church, missed my family more than anything, been talked to in "highway-eese" (Example: "How was your day?" "Good. I took the 405 to the 55 to the 73 to the...."), and have wondered, more than a few times, what the heck I am doing here.

 However, in 46 days I have also seen the sovereignty, the grace, the provision and the intimate care provided by the Lord in my life. He has given and He has taken away. He has revealed Himself to me, and at times it seemed He hid His face from me. He listened to me cry and He gave me reasons to laugh.
There is a season for all things.
In 46 days I have experienced so many "seasons," so many changes in my life, that I can only describe this time as "The Season of Seasoning."
I am being stretched and grown and seasoned and made into salt and light. And we're only 46 days into this journey. Here we go!