A Little Bit Brave

Sometimes, I read my old blog posts, and I’m like “dang, she’s wise.” When I was in high school, I was really good at church. In small groups, I was the one who read books and Bible passages. I gave input and advice that impressed youth leaders. I had a scripture for every problem my friends had. And it was genuine. I shared from my heart. I didn’t have a secret double life. Tonight, as a sophomore in college, I went to a church small group. I looked at the passage we went over in group, and fear rose in my throat. For awhile, I focused on what we were talking about. But as time went on, my anxiety grew. I squeezed the hell out of my stress eggs, curled in on myself. The other girl, one of the group leaders, asked what I got out of the text. My mouth went dry. I didn’t want to share. I didn’t want anyone looking at me. I wanted to leave. After managing to spit out a sentence, I went back to the swirling thoughts in my head. It didn’t help that we were talking about anxiety a...

Perfectionist is not a word I would have used to describe myself. Maybe that’s what should’ve told me that was exactly what I was. You see, I knew that I wasn’t called or supposed or able to be perfect. So, I denied that that was what I was striving for. I wanted excellence in everything, I wanted to make the most of my college education, I wanted to have it all in its exact place. Perfection is easy when you can hide, when you can locate the nearest exit. If you say just the right thing, you can lie while telling the truth. At the very least, you can talk about hard parts, the weak spots, and the pain in a way that makes it seem like you’re walking out of it and don’t need any help. I didn’t want to be weak . I spent this semester feeling weaker than ever. I kept writing fiction and poetry because it’s easier to hide behind the words of a character, easier to hide behind metaphor than actually say concrete words for myself. In real life, I mumbled because I couldn’t believe...

Listen. 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 Four-hundred years of silence. The Jewish people went through wars and conquests and bondage. They struggled to understand the purpose of the Law. They struggled to see God in the waiting. And here, there’s you. You see hard years and strife-filled families. You live wondering when things are going to get better. You fight the same battles, the same shame, sin, and scars. You struggle to see God in the waiting. They held to a promise. Pages of prophecy paving the path of the Messiah, the Anointed One, the Savior. And with angel’s word and sheep’s bleating, He came.  The fullest expression of God, born under a tyrant king and legalistic religious rule. 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 ...

When I look back at where I was a year ago, I can't believe how much my life has changed. Sitting at home after my first semester of college, I start thinking about exactly where I've been over the last 12 months. I see the fear and anxiety that burned. I see a girl who painted over her identity with insecurity and trust issues. I see a girl who let discouragement keep her from pursuing what she loved. I didn't blog very much in 2017. It doesn't really make sense, because one of the few blog posts I wrote this year got a huge amount (for me) of views. You would think having a post with 20 times the usually number of views would inspire me to write more. Instead, I went exactly five months without posting anything. I wanted to be everything I saw other bloggers being, but I didn't think I could measure up. So I didn't write. Words got harder. Despite them being my passion, I stopped believing they were worth anything. I was desperate to speak, but my m...

Going to university terrified me. I had done well in community college classes. I had chosen a school 20 minutes from home. I had amazing friends at my home church. And I was scared. High school was tough for me, especially in terms of friendships. I was worried I would carry those problems into college. I've had crippling anxiety because of school before. I was worried that perfectionism would steal my joy. Every morning, I wake up a little earlier than I have to, and I spend time with God. How little I appreciated this habit before college. I read my Bible consistently long before I moved into my dorm. I listened to worship music. It was really good. But while I was at Gateway Student Conference in July, I heard God say to me, "this will be one of the hardest seasons of your life, but it won't be the same as other hard times. This time, you know I'm with you." I know this couldn't be a time I neglected my relationship with God. So many things--f...

I read a lot about being a freshman in college before I went to college. I have several Pinterest boards dedicated the topic and, while I felt prepared for tough classes and gross caf food, I did not feel prepared to make friends. Last month, I moved into Dallas Baptist University. I'm only 20 minutes away from home. I go to the same church I've been going to since I was 9. In a lot of ways, it doesn't feel like a huge change. However, if you've gone to university or if you ever talked to someone who attended college, you know that maybe the biggest change happening is internal. Meeting new people terrifies me. And college is filled with new people. New people who don't know me, don't know people who know me, haven't heard things about me, only know me from stalking my Instagram. A reason why meeting new people is so frightening to me is trust. For the first several weeks of university, I was paralyzingly anxious because I didn't believe I co...

A few weeks ago, I climbed up a mountain. Okay, so it wasn't a technical "mountain," and it wasn't exactly "climbing," but it felt close enough. We hiked up a hill. It was the last day of our mission trip to Ireland. For the previous five days, we had spent our time and energy playing with and loving kids who desperately needed it. I got weird looks from people when I told them I was going to Ireland for a mission trip--isn't Ireland already a mostly Christian country? According to statistics and the teaching in the schools, yes. Ireland is mostly Catholic/Christian. But going there, I saw people, especially the children I spent time with, dry and in need of Jesus' real grace and truth. On Saturday night, after the "Big Day Out" put on by the church we partnered with, our trip leader Matthew told us he, and anyone else who wanted to come, was going to get up and walk up this hill we had seen on the beach. To hike up the m...

Dear friend, watch this You weren't invited. You weren't noticed. You weren't chosen. It's past midnight and you're scrolling through Instagram, seeing the fun photos and exciting captions. And you weren't there.  Why?  You wonder. After all your effort and time spent, they overlooked you. And the lies seep in. You're not funny enough. Not pretty enough. Not fashionable or thin or curvy or good enough. The friends you thought were your best stop responding, stop speaking. But friend, this is not who you are. I've met Rejection a few times, and he's not a nice guy. He weasels his way in and replaces your expectations with disappointment and pain. He steals joy and brings down weeks. When this bully walks into your life, there are a few things you must remember: 1. You are accepted. Darling, there is a love, a friend, who will always accept you. Yes, you've heard it before. He may not seem like enough now, but when you...

This is my last semester of high school. Last year, I was desperate to get out of high school. My junior year was, in a word, terrible. There were good moments. It got better towards the end. But I was miserable for a significant portion of my 11th grade year. My sophomore year, I saw my high school career ending a whole lot differently. I imaged a graduation ceremony with my friends, staying in touch and even as close friends with several of my current high school friends. Now, I'm not good friends with most of the people I was friends with that year. Six months ago looks much different than right now. I had no idea what the semester would look like. I didn't know who my friends would be, what dual credit classes I would take, or when I would get my license. I didn't know I would get a smart phone, a job, and a two hour drive to debate club. I had no vision for the rest of the year or the next. I spent the fall semester figuring things out. I found myse...

I don't like busy. There are big things--elections and terrorism and school shootings. But there are also things that seem small--biology tests, writing speeches, keeping the kitchen clean. The noise that was once in the background grows, quietly growing until it's all I can hear. This is the busiest I've been in my life. It's my senior year of high school, and there's so much to do. I have dual credit classes, speeches, more speeches, work, writing, more writing. Which is why I haven't written a blog post in almost two months. I don't know how to be busy. I need time to slow down, take a breath. If I don't have time, I get anxious and I'm still learning how to handle anxiety. I barely know how to talk about it. There's another reason I haven't written here in so long. I haven't been sure about what I wanted to write. I've had writer's block with a lot of things lately. People think I'm good with words bec...

We've all heard it said that "home is where the heart is." In my loneliest moments, crying on my bathroom floor, the cry of my heart has been I want to go home.  It didn't matter where I was. It didn't have much to do with who was with me. I wanted to feel home. There's more to home than where our heart is. Our heart can be anywhere. I know my heart has been with the wrong people before. It's been focused on the wrong things before. My heart has been wrong before. My heart is wrong a lot. Our hearts are fickle. They change so often, especially as teenagers. We think we know what we're doing, we think we know what we want. But things change and suddenly what we thought we knew is gone; what we wanted is broken. In the last year I feel like I've watched person after person get exactly what I wanted. It's broken my heart again and again. If our home is where our heart is, our home is on fragile ground. When I started writing this, I wa...

If you buy this product, you will be beautiful. If you wear this outfit, you will be sexy. If you listen to this music, you will be popular. If you act like nothing bothers you, you will be accepted. If you do what he wants, you will be loved You will be enough. *~*~* In the last few weeks, I've learned how hard youth ministry really is. And I haven't seen the half of it. It shouldn't have surprised me. I've seen today's TV shows, heard the music, read books, watched commercials, listened to my friends. I've seen, heard, experienced the lies. We're constantly being told to want more, be more, do more. The bombardment of demands and standards and expectations is insane. A few days ago, the internet at my house went out. Yes, the great American tragedy. No Instagram, no Netflix, no Youtube. We don't have cable anymore either. Terrible right? (No. It's not. I highly recommend taking a few days off from the Internet. You...

Hi Mom, Today's Mother's Day, as you could probably tell by the hoard of men in the greeting card section of the grocery store. While those greeting cards are great and can definitely make me cry, I'd rather use my own words (in addition to the card because I didn't want to seem cheap). Of my many, many talents (like, three talents), writing is one. Buying nice, thoughtful gifts is not. Also, having money to buy nice wood flooring is also out of my skill range. So here's a blog post, for free (Dad would like that so win/win). There are lot's of things that I could say, but I don't want this to be a discombobulated mess. I guess we'll see how this goes. You've been making me food for forever. It's a good thing too, because my breakfast cooking skills are limited to frozen sausage and canned biscuits. Seriously, it's a disaster when I try to make cream of wheat (turns out there's a difference between salt and sugar. Go figure). And ...

We laughed until our sides hurt and tears came to our eyes. At this point, we weren't even laughing about the original joke. After ten minutes, it was a miracle we even had breath left. And yet we kept going. And that was just ten minutes out of a six day trip. I almost didn't go to that tournament. My heart was burning from a deep rejection. I was going through the motions, wishing for winter's months to come to an end. Spring felt decades away. I wished I were graduating this year instead of next. I wished I could start over with an entirely new group of people. I wished for the hurt to go away. But things hardly ever go as I wish them to. My fragile glass heart was broken, and the shards cut my soul. I held onto hope, but that hope was just a thread that I clutched as I walked in the dark, looking for a way out. When I deal with things, I deal with things on my own. Much of the time, this is stupid. Closing yourself off to Youtube videos and books isn't actuall...

|| "So they took branches of palm trees and went out to meet him, crying out, 'Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord, even the King of Israel!'" -John 12:13 || When I prayed, I just wanted the problem to go away. I wanted God to fix the situation. I wanted things to go back to how they were. I prayed for months, but things just got gradually worse until things couldn't get any worse. Never had I wanted something so bad. Never had a loss wrecked me so bad. Sometimes I couldn't sleep over it. Any time I thought I would finally be okay, it would come around and hit me again. Why didn't God just take it away? When Israel prayed for a messiah, they wanted a king. They wanted a leader who would take away their sicknesses and oppression.  For hundreds of years, Israel begged God for a savior. When He came, they welcomed Him to Jerusalem with praise. The called Him king. Rightfully so. They believed He would take away their stru...

Whenever the subject of broken families is brought up at my youth group, I get overwhelmed. I go to two youth groups, and within both of those I know that there are students there my age whose parents are divorced or split up. I can't imagine the way that feels, the hurt that brings. But I know that too many people are in the same situation. Whenever I think too long about the hurts the people in my life are experiencing on a daily basis, I get overwhelmed. At church, at youth, at speech and debate. We walk around, acting like we're 'all right.' We carry shields so others don't see the struggle. No matter what's going on. No matter how bad it hurts. It seems safer to hold up the shields than face rejection and judgement. Sometimes I start researching. I start researching the crappy things in the world that are accepted in the mainstream. Abortion. Pornography. Sometimes I just come across crap. Objectification. Hatred. There's so much crap in the wor...