Immanuel.

December is passing through my fingers quicker than I can blog about it. But what I most desire to write about this month has to be written about very early on, so as to allow time to think upon the subject for the rest of the month.

December holds so much in it, there is so much to enjoy about this time of year. Peppermint mochas for instance, or scarves, the Christmas lights, the family, the sweets, the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. I mean really, the list could go on...

and on...

and on.

The list is so plentiful, so wonderful, that is slightly easy to lose a great opportunity in the midst of the holiday cheer. Of course by this time, some of you may be getting a hunch, you may think I'm going to start talking about Jesus and how on Christmas time we must remember the "Reason for the Season". Well, you are right. Remembrance is powerful, the Bible calls us again and again to remember, to think upon and meditate on. It would be great if we remembered the Lord daily, if we re-told His story to ourselves, to others, in our heads, in a song, in a journal, anything. But we have this little snippet of time at the end of the year, a month called December, and while there are the swirls of atheists protesting the Nativity or Christians protesting the Paganism of the season I can't help but notice the benefits: a 25-day stretch of the gospel being proclaimed through the shopping malls, on cards, on billboards, on every radio station possible!

"Long lay the world, in sin and error pining, 

till He appeared and the soul felt it's worth. 

A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices

 for yonder breaks a new and glorious morn..." 

There is something more beautiful than a house decked out in twinkling lights. Something more pleasant to gaze upon. There is something more wonderful than presents stuffed under an ornamented tree. And even more meaningful than spending extra time with your family (if you know me...you know that is a big statement). Because long ago, the Creator became the created. God, high and lofty, the One who stretches the heavens out like a garment, Who puts spirit in man, and is the Author of time, stepped into His story. He came in controversy: His mother being a young engaged woman not yet knowing a man making her womb His home. He came in humility: born in a  barn with a few animals as His greeting committee. He came in tribulation: a king seeking to put him to death for fear of His predicted future reign. The real quencher of all these (and many more) factors is that...HE CAME! 

You know, I have tried to write this blog about 3 to 5 times now, and each time I start I just end up staring at the screen. I'll get out a sentence and then backspace and start over. If there is one story I can't do justice to, it's this one. It's so beautiful, it's profound, and it sounds crazy! God became a baby - so that He could become a man- so that He could take us back to His Father, as the Repairer of the Breach. The Ultimate Missionary. God is saying so much about Himself as He put on human flesh.

Can you believe that the Lord of Hosts knows what it is like to be wrapped in swaddling clothes? Jesus was dependent on another for food, for shelter, for warmth, and protection. Transcendent and Perfect Light became confined to flesh and bones. What does this say about His humility? Do you believe He can relate to you in your pains, in your loneliness, in your vulnerability? How far will He reach for your friendship? Can we say again, "He doesn't know what it's like to be me?" when He is indeed Immanuel, God with us.

I could go on and on as I think out loud on this entry. My own questions and thoughts overflowing at the baby who has changed everything. A short blog on God Incarnate will never do, but then again someday we will stare at this Jewish Man, the firstborn from the dead, the Living Word of God, and we will wonder at His kindness, we will wonder at His humanity, we will rejoice over His willingness to chase down this wandering race.

My encouragement to you is to take advantage of this Holiday Season, to slowly, in your day-to-day activities think upon these things. Take a passage like John 1 and chew on it "In the beginning was the Word...and the Word was God...and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us..." Maybe take "O Holy Night" or "O Come All Ye Faithful" and sing it over and over again until your heart starts to connect to the words in a deep and meaningful way. It is not a difficult thing, at least it is not meant to be. It doesn't even require you to sit long periods of time, the holiday's are busy, so take it with you. Sing as you shop, remember Him as you bake, it's all the same to Him; I just encourage you to not wait until Christmas Eve or Christmas morning, for the sake of knowing Him more and honoring His immeasurable humility.

The bonus? How does wonder filling your heart sound? Or how about thankfulness and knowing the love God has for you in a deeper way? Talk about presents!



Merry Christmas!

The Mystery Man

Why did you read this blog? Did you think I was going to unveil my Mystery Man? Well, you're right. You nosey little reader.

I met Him a little over six years ago now, I was young and really messed up. I had agreed to go to a weekend getaway with a couple people I barely knew, there were a lot of people talking about it and so I jumped on board, I was desperate enough in my broken life to try a weekend getaway with strangers.  I had a boyfriend at the time, he rolled up my sleeping bag (since we would truly be roughing it), gave me a smooch and told me he'd see me when I got back. Little did I know...

It was like He met me at the door, that Mystery Man. We spent the whole weekend rubbing elbows and dancing around my broken heart. It wasn't until Saturday night that it was official, I was leaving it all and following Him. You see, I listened to a friend of His talk about Him, and it was like the light in my dark little room got flipped on, I saw clearly; and even though my dark little room was full of dark little things I was so undone by Love. I knew this Mystery Man would repair the repairable, and wash away the stains. I knew all of His life He had me set before His eyes. I was His reason.

Have you ever felt utterly loved? If you haven't let me tell you. It is powerful. In that moment of utter love, it's the only food you need to eat, it's the only air required to breathe. That's it. You've won life in that moment of rapture. Often, you spend the rest of your life wounded with love and going after the One who's done it (which is exactly what I've done).

I have followed Jesus ever since that day (there you have it...He's my Mystery Man). Last night I sat in the back of the prayer room and while the worship filled the room, my heart was full of gratitude for the cross of Christ. The girl sang "You so loved the world that You came down..."and I remembered again that giant, incalculable, wonderful heart of God and His plan for humanity. Then as I wondered at His cross and His love, I began to think about the very Mystery that is Christ. He is the Mystery of God. From the first bite of sin God promised man that He will bring man's wandering heart back to Himself. Throughout the Law, the Psalms, and the Prophets, He hints (often quite loudly) at His glorious Plan. But none of us would have guessed it looked like a baby lying in a manger. Who would have supposed it looked like a carpenter serving His family for 30 years in obscurity? Who would have even sort of thought it looked like a cross beam? That God would die for the disobedient ones?

Is His heart that big? 

His love that real? 

Is His justice so thorough? 

His mercy so great?

Have you been brought into the Mystery of God? Has His Secret been revealed to your heart? If you know Jesus is the Son of God. If you know that He "so loved the world that He came down". If you believe in his death on the cross, His complete (body, soul, spirit) resurrection three days later, His ascension to the right hand of the Father, and His soon and imminent return. Then you have been given the Mystery of God. (If your not already pausing here, please do so now and breathe that in.)

This undoes my little heart! I can't contain it. He let me know about His Son, He breathed life on His Gospel as it fell upon my heart. And now here I sit, full of gratitude and wonder; astonished that I've been told, confident of His ability to do the same for others. Oh Lord use me as a conduit of Your precious Mystery! 

His cross woos this heart and assures it of love, and the fact that He has unfolded His Mystery to me makes my insides dance around like crazy. Like every part of me is weeping, and laughing, and singing. Yet all that I can do is softly whisper, "Thank you" over and over again.

"...that their hearts may be encouraged, being knit together in love, to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge." Colossians 2:2

Beauty

In the beginning of this blog, my initial purpose was to write for no one but myself. I needed a place to write down the many thoughts and emotions I had in losing my Dad. While I did buy a new journal, that was almost too painful, a blog was a little easier to write down my thoughts at the time. I named it Simply because though my heart was in the most pain it had ever encountered I was at the same time experiencing beauty in the little things. I wanted to write about and process the pain, but I wanted to remember the beauty.

It's crazy how the little things become so precious in the midst of a crumbling life. I would look at my family and think to myself, "Remember how they just smiled" or "Don't forget that laugh." I began to cherish deeper my little Montana town. Night after night I would sit on my Dad's front porch, I would cry, and feel, and breathe. My brother would come out and sit with me and we would do it again together. I would write, and sing, and pray. Even though I've lost that front porch forever, it has held memories since I was a baby, and has become even more dear to me now. Just the other day as I was praying I found myself trailing off to that front porch in the dusk, I sat there and breathed deeply the mountain air, and stared up into that big purple sky, and longed for the mountains, the simplicity found there.

Beauty is everywhere, we are utterly surrounded by it. I work for an anti-trafficking organization and am astounded at the darkness that covers the earth every day, you don't have to convince me for a second of the evil that is out there, I believe you. Still, there is beauty, I know there is, and it's not to far off. It's in the simple things each day: the conversations, the faces, the things you're so used to that you forget their very existence. What are those little things in life that make your heart come alive? Is it the smell of rain before you feel a drop? Is it the bright eyes on a tiny messy face? Is it boots walking over the kitchen floor to greet you after long days work? Is it a walk you take each morning, or listening to a symphony? Is it an open field or a bright clear sky? Is it fall, or winter, or spring?

The Bible reminds us in the book of Isaiah that what we now live in and all of it's beauty will fade away, the lasting source of our current and everlasting life is the Word of God. What does this tell me then? That the earth will be rolled up like a garment and dismissed into nothingness? That the physical and temporary beautiful things I'm around today shouldn't be enjoyed or embraced? No, quite the opposite. The passing beauty we encounter every day is not the end in and of itself, but they are gifts...doors even. We have been given eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart to understand. Where was beauty born, and where does it find it's source? Beauty begets beauty, it cannot produce anything else.

Still, I have this little tension in my heart thinking perhaps we first need God to recognize beauty, but then I think, well, maybe some of us need beauty to recognize God. Romans 1:19-20 tells us that God has made Himself known in creation, and that those who suppress the reality of God will stand without excuse because His creation has made Him plainly known. The mountains, the oceans, the trees, the sky, all those things that take my breath away tell me of Something greater.

I realize I'm not leaving you with many conclusions, perhaps mostly questions (welcome to my world) but that is kind of the point. Beauty is a process, instantaneous yet ever unfolding. In this world we rush around sunsets, and family, and small things that would and could usher us into such wonder and joy but that's just it...we rush. We forget to look up, we forget to look out and be amazed. We let bitterness and anxiety push out gratitude and wonder, and by the end of the day nothing looks beautiful...nothing. But I have a hunger in my heart to take in the big picture, to stand back as best as I can in the midst of pain, or the mundane, or a hectic life and behold beautiful things. These little moments of transcendence that tell me again "look up...I am but a shadow, a hint of the Source of beautiful things..."

I encourage you to do the same, baby steps, one heart movement of gratitude at a time, until you become more and more alive to the small facets of eternity all around you.

Here is to beholding beautiful things and Beauty Himself!

Ashley

Dads and Dreams.

An incredible thing happened after my last blog: a precious woman read my blog and offered to pay for the writing class I had mentioned at the beginning of my post. I really can't explain what this did for my heart, well...yes I can.

A friend once said to me, losing someone close to you is like losing a leg. You can live without your leg, but the way you live changes drastically. Five months into losing my Dad, I can vouch for this analogy and say this is a very true statement. I'm still breathing, but life has changed and at times it feels like I walk with a limp. It is the little things that hurt the most. For example this week I watched a sweet little movie called Flipped. In a quick, subtle scene the girl jumps into her dad's pickup truck and they drive through the countryside. Before I could recognize the buildup of water in my eyes, I was weeping, it actually took me a moment to notice the onslaught of tears on my face. A dad, a truck, and the country, they didn't even talk during the scene. It's the little things that hurt the most.

This class was one of those little things. My dad was a dreamer, he was a mountain man that lived in a tiny mountain town and drove a tiny pickup truck. But that man knew how to dream (I'll share his awesome ideas sometime). My dreams were equally important to him, if anything I would say my dreams took priority over his own by a landslide. I could picture me spilling my heart to my dad about the writing class. How it would help me become a better writer, and someday I would write a book (this is where my dreams come in). He wouldn't say much on the other end, mostly because I wouldn't take a breath to allow him a word in. When I had finished talking about this class and my dream. He would tell me how wonderful it sounded, that I should do it (knowing that I couldn't afford to do such a class). I would then inform him that I couldn't afford to do such a class (though he already knew it). 

"How much does it cost?" He would say to me.

 "Seventy dollars" I would reply.

"Honey," he would say, "You know I'm going to pay for your class." 

And he would, he would pay for my class. 

The money isn't the issue here. It's the man behind the money, the supporter of my dreams. So when these things come up and I want to call him and say, "Dad! You got me on this one?" but can't... my heart breaks. Not because I lose an opportunity. I miss my dream holder-upper. My provider. To be honest, I don't think I prayed about this class, maybe I did but I don't recall. I tucked it away in my back pocket and allowed it to inspire my heart to write again. I read some blogs on writing, sat outside and brainstormed, and wrote a new blog. When I got the message on Friday from a friend who wanted to pay for my class, and wrote "I believe in you so much" in that little text, well...it felt like I got a heart massage.

I so needed to be reminded that God in His truest form is the Father. He loves to see me dream, and He wants to be a part of it. He loves to make a way! I remember thinking to myself (knowing He was in on the conversation) "You saw that?" I find it completely enriching and almost laughable. He sees and loves and supports... ME!? I knew my Dad got it from somewhere (ahem...God).

Well, tonight was the first night of my writing class. It's a small little class, perfect in size. The instructor's advice in starting to write was, "just begin." Edit later... but you have to just begin to write. So that's what I just did! I was planning on writing about something completely different (don't you worry, I'll get there someday) as I wrote, the aforementioned flowed out... and voila! A blog.

On an all day Daddy Daughter Date.

Myths and Reality

There is a class that will be starting soon in the community I live in called, "Writing the Book That is In You." I. Want. To. Take. This. Class! Oh do I want to take this class! It may not work out for me due to finances. Still, it has my heart stirring and I have been praying asking the Lord to open up and enlarge my creative capacity. I read a quote the other day, the long and short of it was: make art unashamedly, and while people are critiquing and deciding if they like it... make more art. I found such encouragement in this since the art of writing is something I so desire to do and do well. But intimidation has held me back time and time again.

I love to read and to write. I love to imagine what could be or what will be. C.S. Lewis is, without question one of my favorite authors, and as much as I love his non-fiction pieces and his genius essays. What I love more is his "children's" stories. The Chronicles of Narnia is one of the most fantastic works I've ever read. Once I read one of the books in the series, it's as though I'm in Narnia for days. I'm always looking at the trees waiting for them to lean in and tell me a mystery.

The beauty of his work lies in the fact that what he speaks of is actually...reality. Types and shadows. The tales create wonder and longing in the hearts of the readers, because here's the secret, deep down we know it is true...we at least hope it is true. Something in us bears witness when good ol' Edmund eats that turkish delight, and even more, we cry and rejoice at the redemption of that tender yet fierce Lion. His fiction is really "non" fiction. Myths and fables have their roots in reality. They may have gotten twisted over the ages, but I tell you, God has written eternity on the hearts of man and our imaginations expose this truth. 

I found the best places for me to tap those creative wells is either outside staring out at the sky or studying the trees, as well as in the Bible. If you really think about what they are saying in the Bible, it is wonderful, terrifying, beautiful! And we can retell the story in so many ways. I've been sitting in Isaiah 24 through 26 lately. And here is just a little poem that came out as I've thought about it! Until next time :)

When You return we will weep and dance.

Our faces will shine with light and joy.

Thankfulness will pour from our hearts like singing rivers.

“This is the One we have waited for!”

Your appearing will prove the foundations of myths.

The longing of nations solidified in Truth.

Dragons are slayed and Justice rides on.

We have looked to the sky as we’ve waited for You.

Has this been the whisper of the human soul?

“Gentle Majesty wipe my tears away”

We join with the trees that writhe in longing

Our desire alone is the remembrance of Your name.

Return! Return! Oh Lowly One.

Hearts they long to be satisfied.

Awaken Dawn, usher Him in with singing!

Soon upon You we shall set our eyes.

Amen.

Bringing Christ Glory in Suffering

I can name on one hand the number of messages I have heard that have wrecked me to the core. Actually, I would say that I could probably chalk it up to two messages total. I remember I went to church alone one evening in November 2010, and sat in the center section a few seats from the back. A man named Stephen Venable spoke that night and his message was on "Bringing Christ Glory in Suffering". I sat in my chair that night and wept afterwards, knowing this was the desire of my heart... how I longed that my life contain such a testimony. That in every season of my life, I would ascribe worth and proclaim the beauty of Jesus even in the midst of my darkest days. 

I cannot tell if that message catapulted me into the next season of my life, or came along in the midst of that season and solidified what was already happening. But what I do know is that desire was being fashioned within. My heart was marked with longing to bring glory to Jesus in all things. Even in suffering. 

That message from Stephen Venable has come floating to the surface once again. It's always been there, it never leaves me, but it has been hidden under a few layers of life (something I regretfully admit). In the middle of what has yet to be my greatest trial, I wish I could say I have from the get-go sang "It is well with my soul" but alas, I've curled up with Ben & Jerry's Half Baked ice-cream, and watched more sitcoms than I care to admit (consider this my confession). Still, I want so badly to set my heart on things above, I want to love and to know Jesus. 

But here is what I'm discovering, I am bad at that! I will not scratch my own back and tell you how I've come up out of the miry clay because I did it right. He will do it in me and I will say yes. I'm not negating my part in this. I have a part to play, I have a yes to give, a heart to open, and a mind to set on things above. But He will be the One to pull me through it all. I can't go back and re-do what has been already done, but I can allow my life to again embrace the worth and beauty of Jesus. 

If you're interested in the message, I found it here. Just click on the link below.

The Glory of Jesus and Suffering

Hope.

Just when it feels like your heart can't beat one more beat... It manages. Have you ever had to labor to breathe...you know- it isn't how it usually is where you don't even pay attention to the oxygen flowing into you lungs. No, this kind of breathing requires focus, your heart feels to big for your chest, and deep intentional  breaths are the only way you get any air at all.
I hate that kind of breathing. I hate that heavy heart. But that's what I have as of late. I lost my dad March 27th of this year. Almost 2 months ago. That's one of the reasons I started writing again actually... I figured the processing had to go somewhere.
Life doesn't feel real right now. I fully expect to see his name on my caller id. I wait for him to walk out of his bedroom with an ashtray and his "jammies" on, ready to watch his shows, and laugh, and on commercial break go on a snack run. I almost feel him pat my feet as I lay on the couch and ask me how I'm doing. I hear him laugh, and know just how he would tell me he loves always adding a term of endearment at the end. But no, my memories betray me to easily these days. Someone...Get me out of the twilight zone.
I have no current lesson learned. I have no advice or wisdom. I have heartache, but that's not something I'm interested in passing along. And I'm sure it's not something anyone is interested in taking. The only thing I can somewhat toss around in my mind right now is
Romans 5:3-5
More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.
I'm not yet rejoicing in my sufferings, so I'm still at the beginning of this verse. But it is in my head for a reason. Because I believe that as foreign as those words look like right now, someday they will be a reality for me. Up until this point in my life suffering has been a more ethereal idea, something I hoped was limited to dealing with my inner life and getting along with difficult people. And now my body feels physical pain and restrictions from the emotional pain in my heart. Big leap for me in the realm of trials and suffering. So I'm grabbing on to this seed of hope: that hope does not disappoint, that I will not be put to shame... and I'm riding it out. Both hands on the bars here, now isn't the time for stunts or showing off. Now is the time to hold on.

Simple Beginnings

I have tried to blog time after time each time ending soon after its beginning. Still here I am again, hoping to set out into this sea and perhaps I'll stay awhile and test the waters. The truth be told, I love writing... and I hate writing. The pen (or in this case keyboard) is to me a mark of permanence. You can't (or at least shouldn't) go back and erase things you write down, they either are or were, but you cannot say they never have been. That's delusional. Words make my heart soar, and there have been times they've caused me to lose my breath. With words I've been to places I've never really traveled to, I've met people I'll never really know. And at the same time I've written things down in that painful book we call a journal that I will forever regret. But I'm not erasing those words, nope... I won't do it. So often I want to sit down and write: a story, an entry into my scattered journal, a poem, a song I made up and want to remember for later, and then it happens- I internally panic. What if it's terrible. What if it all changes next week. What if it was an emotional high or perhaps an emotional low, and I wish to God I could take it back the very next morning. One of my favorite writers said, "to love is to be vulnerable..." well I agree, and I would substitute at this time with, "to write is to be vulnerable." But I have to get over that, I have to choose to write much like I have to choose to love. And so my blog begins. Simply...a blog about life, because what else is there? And quite honestly, I happen to think life even in it's most brutal twists and turns, can be quite beautiful. At least that's what I've found...

 and I plan to share only what I've found.