But, I must honestly confess, none of this feels like home.   I keep thinking I’m going to wake up one of these mornings and it will all have been a dream.  I feel displaced…restless.   And while I’m all about “making the most of things,”  I miss home.    I miss the familiarity of the places and people I love and the comfort that comes from simply knowing they are near.  And so far, no matter how hard I try to force myself to do that “nesting” thing here, my heart is struggling to collect the twigs and other sundry required to make this a sturdy place of refuge.  

This morning I have been sitting here asking the Lord the “why” of all of this.  I don’t think He minds.  And when we follow Him somewhere, I don’t think He blames us when we struggle or wrestle in the process - whether we followed willingly or were forced into some quandary of a situation beyond our control.  I really think He gets it.  

Picture how incredibly foreign it must’ve felt for Baby Jesus to come to our world.  He went from being the King of kings on the throne of Heaven to a Baby in the cramped womb of a young teenage girl.  Imagine the contrast of leaving the vastness and bright glory of Heaven and arriving in this dark, sloppy mess of a stable filled with dingy farm animals and a ragamuffin cast of characters.  Jesus exchanged the robes of a King for the weathered swaddling clothes that the cat dragged in.  Talk about being far from the comforts of home.  

Now I know He is Jesus and He is perfect, but in His perfection, even He had second thoughts.  We see Him grapple with the reality of what faced Him as He sweat drops of blood in the Garden before His crucifixion.  We hear Him ask the Father if there’s any way this cup could be taken  from Him, while still fulfilling what He came to accomplish.  Though that was the only recorded time we hear Jesus ask the Father about other options for accomplishing His will, I would venture to guess that in those thirty-three years leading up to the crucifixion there were probably other times.  What about when other kids were teasing him on the playground?  Or when He was exhausted from the throngs of people pressing in with such horrific and great need?  Or when He was laying in a feeding trough with itchy hay poking his tender skin?  Or dying on the cross for us when, in the most harrowing of moments,  His Father turned His face away? Pure agony.    Home must’ve felt a gazillion miles away, and yet this was exactly where Jesus was meant to be.  

So, on a much less heavenly level, here I sit in New Jersey, far from what I consider home.  Maybe you feel a tad displaced as well, either in your location, your new set of circumstances or a painful trial the Lord has allowed you to endure.  Maybe you, like me, feel a tad itchy, cramped, or irritated by the strangeness, and miss the comforts of what you know and love best.   I guess what the tender manger scene is asking of us today is not to run from the discomfort, but to pull up a chair in this stinky, confusing, uncomfortable world of ours and gaze upon the beauty of a King.  And once we have done so, shuffle through the mud and the muck to follow Him, cup in hand and light aflame, into an world He has called us to love as He so loved.   

Uncomfortable?  Yes.   

Far from home? Indeed.  

But as a pilgrim, I must make my Home in Him.

When God brought us our son, Christian, through the gift of adoption, we had 4 days notice, after trying to have kids for 10 years.  We hadn’t even signed up for the adoption process yet.  But we got a phone call, high-tailed it to Michigan, and picked up our 8 1/2 month old son Christian, laying eyes on him for the very first time in the living room of Mark’s sister’s house.  We knew our prayers had been answered and we just needed to go.  

And now, I find myself in a New Jersey town, across the bay from New York City, far from the comforts of Colorado.  My husband was looking for a job and found one in NYC.  So, he came out to meet the folks at the potential place of employment, evaluate the area, see if he could handle the commute, and came home.  We prayed, felt confirmation and peace, and decided to come.  Only ’til I was almost done packing our things did I realize...”I never even visited!  Yikes!  What if I hate it?  What if I can’t handle it?  What if?  And what am I thinking?”  But yet I knew.  And here we are.  

Every day God asks us to do things or go places site unseen.  I have many friends who are wives of veterans.  They move every two years to a brand new location.  New friends, new culture, maybe new continent, and for sure new challenges.   And most are on the home front by themselves with their children, while their spouse is defending our nation elsewhere.   I’m also privileged to know several friends who have been called to the mission field overseas, flying into a deep jungle or tribal area they’ve only studied from the safety of the United States.  Language learned, culture researched, shots and medications taken.  But suddenly bags are packed, and they are on a tiny prop plane landing in a swamp or a dirt and gravel run-way.  

Some would call it crazy, not to have all your ducks in a row before you take on something as monumental as bringing a child into your home, giving your life for your country,  or taking the name of Jesus to a part of the world where you could be shot if they actually found out why you are there.  And, granted, I’m all about preparation.  All of my closest friends know I am super organized and like to know “the plan,”  if at all possible.  

In the book of Genesis, we see a similar situation in the life of Abraham.  God has asked Him to leave the comfort of home.  And in the New Testament book of Hebrews (chapter 11), an account is given of Abraham’s faith.  “By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going.  By faith he made his home in the promised land like a stranger in a foreign country; he lived in tents, as did Isaac and Jacob, who were heirs with him of the same promise.  For he was looking forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.”  

I wonder what would’ve happened if Abraham would’ve said “no”?  Would God have pleaded?  Would God have moved on to someone else?  We’ll never know.  

Sometimes God is going to give us clear details before He asks us to step out.  But most of the time, at least in my life, the details seem to come once I’ve already taken the first step...or maybe quite a few steps! Even then, they may be cloudy.  The reason we, as Christ-followers, can confidently step out into foreign lands or situations, site unseen,  is because we aren’t living only for the temporal.  We have the joy of looking past the discomfort of our current scenario, as Abraham did,  and seeing what God is building.  There is more than meets the eye.  

So today, what is God asking you and me to step out and do?  It may not be to move or adopt, but it might be to talk to a stranger at a check-out stand, encourage a neighbor, start a Bible study.  What “first steps” is He asking you to take without every single detail being perfectly in order?  What place is He asking you to go or which person is He asking you to talk to today, even though you have no idea how that individual might respond or what awaits you?  These “steps of faith” may not make sense in the natural, and we may or may not see the fruit this side of eternity.  But what will we lose if we say “no”?    

Would you, with me, pitch your tent right in the middle of this glorious kingdom God is building?  What great company we are in, if we do so.

“By faith Abraham...”

“By faith Shannon...”

“By faith Mark....”

“By faith....YOU...”

As many of you know,  my family recently relocated to the Northeast from Colorado.   We’re living across the harbor from New York City in the North Jersey Shore area, and Mark commutes into NYC for work. While it's a pretty exciting place to be, it’s been culture shock, to be sure.  We exchanged dry air for humid, a fairly bugless existence for an enormous increase in bug population,  traded mountains for ocean, wide open spaces for skyscrapers and trees galore, and the laid back, open nature of Mile High friends for a more intense East Coast variety of folks.  

Since we arrived a few weeks ago, I’ve commented to Mark several times how people here seem quite different than in Colorado.  They don’t make eye contact as much, don’t really chat at the check-out stand, and smiles don’t seem as commonplace.  I’m pretty sure it’s a cultural thing, but it’s been a bit of an adjustment for me.  

Thankfully, my husband and I have some family here.  Mark’s brother Jerry and his wife Tina, along with their four kids live just 10 minutes away, and they have welcomed us with open arms, immediately and fully.  And over the past few weeks they’ve also introduced us to some friends of theirs who are delightfully “Jersey”.  One neighbor named Charlie, who is the “Watermelon King” of the region, invited a huge gang over to his house and prepared a banquet of culinary delicacies, encouraging us to eat, keep eating, and then, once you’re stuffed, eat some more!  “Come on, come on!  Eat!  Eat!  Grab another plate!”  (in traditional Jersey dialect) The other night Christian and I were over at Aunt Tina’s house swimming, and Tina’s friend and neighbor came over...a sweet lady whose husband recently passed away.  We talked and laughed around the table, she dried Christian off after swimming, gave me a big kiss on the cheek as we were leaving and even offered to give us some costly ferry tickets that her husband had for his commute to work before he died.  

These experiences have been an interesting and refreshing contrast to what I’ve experienced around town.  And what I’ve realized is that when a Jersey-ite finds out that I am a family member of someone they already know and love, that’s it.  I am automatically “all in.”  There’s not a lot of fluff or pomp and circumstance, but that’s just how it is here.  You are embraced, loved, forced to eat....and treated like the rest of the family from that moment on.  I admit, it kind of feels like the Mafia (ok, maybe just the accents) or My Big Fat, Greek Wedding at times, but it’s made me learn to love these Jersey-ites.  I like the feeling of being “all in.”  

And isn’t that the way God loves us?  When He sent Jesus, and His arms were stretched out on the cross, God was saying to us “I am all in.”  He stopped at nothing to show us His deep desire to be in relationship with us.  He laid it all on the line and gave every ounce of Himself to make us part of the family.  And when we choose to respond to that love, we suddenly find our ragamuffin selves pulled up to a banquet table, not with the Watermelon King, but with the King of kings Himself!  And He says to us, “My sweet child, YOU are all in!  Come!  Eat!  Grab a plate!  Don’t be shy!  It’s all yours!”   Yes, He spared not His Son and He will, indeed, also graciously give us all things. 

So as I consider living on the East Coast and the fact that I have been bought with a price - the blood of Jesus - I also realize how easy it would be to just endure this season -  to just wait and hope for the day I move back to the Rockies.  It would be pretty easy to do that, you know?  But no. I serve a God who deserves it all, not some of the time, but all of the time.  Not in one location, but in all locations.  Not in particular seasons, but in each and every season.  And I believe that He did not just move us here for my husband’s job.  God moves each and every one of us with eternity in mind.  People’s hearts, lives, souls hanging in the balance....His kingdom purposes.  

So, I want to throw all my cards out on the table, put my very last coins in the jar.  Break the box and pour the costly perfume at His feet.  I want to awaken each morning and breathe in the sea air and and exhale all my energy for Christ and Christ alone.  Today.  Tomorrow.  The next day.   Always.   Whether it comes out in a song, a kind deed or a conversation at a check-out stand,  I want to be "all in." 

"Yes, my Lord.  You can count me all in.”  

“I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.  I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it.  But one thing I do; forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”   Philippians 3: 12-14

Hello all!  I pray this note finds you well!  First of all, please forgive me for this bulk e-mail!  I would have liked to pick up the phone or personally e-mailed each one of you, but time is of the essence at the moment.  :)

As most of you know, since Mark's accident, we have been in quite a holding pattern as a family.  Mark has been looking for employment in Colorado for about a year and a half now, while taking on contract work here and there as he has been able.  God has provided in miraculous ways as we've prayed and waited for an open door, but absolutely nothing has opened as far as a job for Mark here in Colorado.  First, we prayed for an open door in the Colorado Springs area (where we live), then we prayed for an open door in Colorado Springs or metro Denver.  Then we pretty much prayed for something anywhere along the entire Front Range.  Still, nothing.  So, about a month ago we decided to open up his search to the entire United States and just be open to whatever came our way. 

Well, quite a few companies in various states contacted Mark immediately, and he began the interview process with several of them.  But one company in New York (based out of the UK)  that had contacted him about 6 months ago contacted him again, only this time we were open to moving out of state. They were very interested in hiring Mark before but we SO wanted to stay in Colorado that we told them "no."  This time, however, they pushed Mark through the interview process within a week and made him an offer by week's end (this was about 2 weeks ago).  Still, we were thinking "New York City, Lord?  Seriously?"  We are granola Colorado folks, but we felt the Big Apple tug on our hearts.   As Mark continued to interview with other companies in other states, we continued to feel that NYC was quite possibly it.  So, Mark decided to use some mileage and head out there for a week (his brother lives in Jersey, so he stayed there with he and his wife) and test the waters.  

While in NYC, Mark got to try the commute into Manhattan from Jersey on the ferry, while floating past the Statue of Liberty.  He said he felt like he needed to stand and put his hand over his heart or something!  Then,  his company even offered to pay for the expense of his commute on the ferry into work each day because of his disability!  That is a huge expense and we felt that this was clearly God's favor.  While Mark was out of town, the Lord began to speak to me in clear ways about God calling our family there for very specific purposes - to be a light - and that God has something specific for each of us and it's not just about Mark's job.   Before I mentioned this to Mark, the Lord spoke this same thing to Mark's heart - that, yes, he was going there for a job, but it was very much about being a light in a dark place and loving the people God places in our path.  God has a greater purpose, as He always does!  

Several other amazing confirmations have taken place in the last couple of weeks, but the cutest one of all happened about a month ago.  At the close of Christian's kindergarten graduation (before any of this NYC stuff even happened!), his entire class sang (with Broadway choreography), "Start spreading the news!  We're leaving today!  I want to be a part of it!  First grade!  First grade"!  (to the tune of "New York, New York"! )   Out of the mouths of babes....truly.  

All this to say, we will be moving in just a couple of  weeks, as Mark starts his new job on August 1st in New York City where Mark will work for a company as one of their Business Intelligence Developers.  

I wanted to let you all you know because, first of all,  you are dear friends but also because we covet your prayers.  This is a huge change culturally, demographically, spiritually, etc...but we have a very clear sense that this is where we're supposed to go, so that gives us great confidence.  Still, any change can be difficult.  Please pray for Mark, as he adjusts to getting back into the full time work force with his new physical limitations and as he adjusts to working for this new company - that the Lord would guard his heart and mind and sustain him physically and give him great wisdom and favor.  He heads to the UK next week for a meeting with the team there.  FUN!  Please pray for Christian and me as we navigate new neighborhoods, new schools, new friends, new ministry opportunities, etc....Christian is VERY adaptable and flexible, but it's a big change for him (and for me!).  Please pray for wisdom for us as we continue finalizing moving details, and protection as we travel.  And most of all, pray that we would be sensitive to the Lord's whispers as we navigate these uncharted waters.  

I will update you as soon as we have any more info., and I will let you know when we arrive for sure!  I have a sense of anticipation for this new season and am grateful that our kind Shepherd is leading us so faithfully.  Here's to a new adventure!  

Love and blessings to you all!  Please stay in touch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Shannon (Mark & Christian)

I Kings 19: 11-13...The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”  Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind.  After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake.  After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.  And after the fire came a gentle whisper.  When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave.  Then a Voice said to him, "What are you doing here, Elijah?”  

Have you ever tuned your spiritual ears to the wrong voice?  I sure have.  Roaring and deafening storms of difficult circumstances captured my attention as recently as the last four days. They screamed in my face with threats and lies of defeat and distraction. I felt whiplashed, shaken, and taken captive by their taunting and my own misleading emotion.  The noisy rumblings, bitter wind and scorching flames caused me to retreat  in discouragement for a brief but painful season of time.  

But something happened yesterday that led me, like Elijah, to the mouth of the cave.  Yesterday, after several days of weathering these storms, to top it all off some discouraging words were spoken over me.  Not critical words, but words that spoke boundaries to my calling and hemmed me into a corner that I knew was not God’s full plan for my life.  I felt frustrated, and I became grieved.  I realize now that the reason I reacted these two ways was because I chose to believe these words, and I was allowing the voice of this human being to define and create boundaries in my spirit  that God, Himself, has not set nor spoken over my life.  After a few hours of struggling, by the grace of God, I heard a whisper, and I came to the mouth of the cave.  The Voice I heard whispering is the only Voice that sovereignly creates and authoritatively speaks the kind of boundaries and limitations into our lives that protect, inspire and free us with directives perfectly in alignment with His plan for our lives.   

This morning when I awakened, I was tempted to let my head hang low once again, but my King gently lifted my face to meet His gaze and said, ”I am pleased with you.  I love you so much.  And I am the only One who has the power to define you or hem you in, both for your good and for My glory.  I open and close doors you may not understand, but it is for your ultimate freedom.  So, please hear Me.  I long to speak to you.  I have songs for you to write and to sing.  Songs of healing.  Songs of deliverance.  Love songs to me.  Love songs FROM me.   I have words I long to speak through you to others.  But against the clatter and clutter of all the other voices you entertain, sometimes I can’t seem to get your attention.   Shema.  Listen and obey.  Awaken your spirit’s ears and listen for the Voice of Heaven - My whisper, My instruction, My truth.  The world’s voice is empty and meaningless compared to the words I speak over You, my beloved.  Their boundaries and limitations are not Mine.”  

I am so grateful for His whisper and so aware of the contrast between it and the storm and fire of emotion that preceded its gentleness and assurance.  The enemy would love for us to become so caught up in our circumstances or disappointments that we cower in fear and bondage and never come to the mouth of the cave to hear His words of freedom.  So, which voice are we going to listen to today?  Lies?  Distraction? The soundtrack of our childhood?  The mocking of our failures or circumstances?  The driving urge to people-please?  No.  

It’s time.  Time to come to the mouth of the cave and tune in to the sweet, limitless, boundless, loving voice of the One who is calling us higher.  

We are listening for Heaven.  

 Today is March 29, 2011, and two years ago today my husband Mark was given a second chance at life on planet earth, when he survived, by the grace of God, a motorcycle/truck accident that should have cost him his life.  For those of you who haven’t heard this part of our story, you can find it on my blog page at www.shannonwexelberg.com or on Facebook.   Just scroll down to Spring 2009!  I wanted to give you a quick update as to how Mark is doing and also give testimony to the Lord’s greatness and sweetness in our lives. 

As many of you know, Mark broke 23 bones in the accident, as a result of the 55 mile per hour impact his body made with a truck, and also because of the fact that his body then took flight and flew 40 feet to land on the pavement.  So, the fact that he is able to walk, had no head or spinal injury, and lived to tell, is nothing short of a miracle of God.  That said, he has a ton of metal in him now – rods in both his femurs, plates in his knee and pelvis, pins and plates in his sacrum, knee and ankle.  While we hope to get some of that removed down the road, most of it will stay in him for life.  So, he does feel a bit stiff and sore at times and, according to the doctors, he has the beginnings of arthritis creeping into some of those joints that were directly affected.  We are making nutritional changes that we hope will make a difference in this, as well as exercise-related changes, and of course we continue to pray and trust the Lord to give us grace day by day.  All in all, we are humbled and grateful that God has granted us more time together, and while we definitely have a “new normal,” we embrace it joyfully and with thanks.    Tonight, we are going out to dinner in celebration of Mark’s life, and it truly is a celebration (and a great excuse to go out to eat!).

Each one of us has a different story.  If I ventured to guess, we all have deep scars and wounds from the path we’ve trod thus far, and all of us can also probably envision the magnificent vistas we have taken in as we stood perched atop the victorious mountains of our lives. No matter where you are right now, God is writing your story, and He sees you.  These moments did not take Him by surprise, and you continue to be in His loving care.  Whatever set of circumstances you are facing today – whether high or low - it is YOU in the making, for the glory of God.  The beautiful thing about a life surrendered to our Savior is that there is nothing He can’t turn from ashes to beauty. Redemption is part of His nature.  It is who He is.  Mark and I have seen this in so many seasons of our lives, including this one since his accident two years ago. While I would’ve never wished this upon us, I cannot thank God enough for the immense beauty, immeasurable strength and amazing grace He has poured out upon us, our marriage, and our family since March 29, 2009.  And so I praise Him today  – the One who, with pencil (or maybe a feather quill?) in hand, is carefully writing every detail of our lives. 

There have been times in my life that I have stopped telling my story – the story of God’s redemption in my life.  I think a part of me tires of my own story and thinks others won’t be interested or maybe it won’t make an impact.  I may huddle in fear of criticism or judgment.  Or maybe other times I’m in a very “stuck” place and I feel nothing at all, sensing so little personal progress that I don’t even feel I have the right to tell my story at the time.   Whatever the reason, that, my friend, is part of the enemy’s plan – to silence us and to have us focus so much on ourselves and our failures and doubts that we stop telling the world about His tender and mighty touch in our lives.  Sometimes we may only be able to muster a few words because we are walking through deep pain, or sometimes our story is told not with words at all, but with reflections of His grace in the holding of a friend's hand, the baking of a cake or a meal, the writing of a song...or perhaps bowing in worship and trust, as the tears stream down our cheeks, in a simple act of trust. Whatever our opportunity and means of sharing God’s redemption today, let’s take it. After all, what else do we have to offer aside from the story God is writing in and through us?  Ultimately, that is all we have to give – the outpouring and overflow of His creative process in our lives. And that’s all He asks of us.  So, I am sharing this chapter of my story with you today because I long for you to be encouraged, because I believe it is a stepping stone in my own victory, and because, most wondrously, I want to tell the world that “God has done great things for me. Holy is His name!”

“Now have come the salvation and the power and the kingdom of our God, and the authority of His Christ.  For the accuser of our brothers, who accuses them before our God day and night, has been hurled down.  They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.” (Revelation 12: 10-11)

Year fading into year.  Month tumbling into month.   Days cascading into more days.  And moments seeping into irretrievable moments.  Ultimately and simply, a certain span of time is what delineates our life here on earth.  We’re given only one life, and, I confess, at times I lose sight of this fact – that each moment is precious and I can never get it back. 

I remember the world coming into focus when Mark had his accident.  Nothing else mattered except my family, my closest friends and the communion with my Shepherd who was tenderly caring for us.  Everything else “extra” became baggage I quickly dropped on the roadside for the sake of holding onto that which was and is most dear.  My vision became clear and my purpose identified.  Each moment was savored and life was cherished simply because, well, we were alive and on this planet loving one another.   Life was in the loving.  Loving God, loving each other, and letting that loving spill out on others.  

So, what happened?  What happens to each of us, when that sense of fragility and simplicity fades and so easily turns into a callous heart that snaps an answer to our spouse or child as we hurry out the door or creates a “to-do” list so many miles long that our lives become all too consumed, once again, with the “doing” rather than the “being”?   How is it we lose the sense of savoring each moment simply because it was given to us, not because we are measuring what we accomplished in those moments by some diabolical measuring stick?  How is it we forget so easily that we are first His children and not just His workers? 

We must stop and be quiet and ask ourselves those questions.  

I have been on a quest to more deeply discover these answers because, quite frankly, the “doing” has left me empty and craving a fuller and more rooted place of contentment in my identity as His child.  For the record, it’s not that I’ve stopped “doing.”  Oh, I’ve intentionally slowed down a bit to make more room for this sweet communion.  But I am still leading worship, singing, writing, creating, mothering, being a wife, etc…But I am being set free from letting these “doings” define me and from losing the beauty of the moment.  

Now, let me be clear…I believe, according to the book of James, that we are to do works as an overflow and demonstration of our faith in and love for Jesus Christ.  That is clear and uncontested.  What I am referring to isn’t the wrongness of the doing in and of itself, but the way we can come to define ourselves or gain some sense of value from these acts of doing.  It is a wretched and sinful place that we can all too easily find ourselves, tethered and in bondage to performance and the opinions of others.

And so God has been asking me to sit quietly and let Him redefine me.  He is beckoning me to a place of deeper surrender, definition and healing.  A place where nothing I do or the way others value or disvalue me has any role in defining my worth.  It is a place where all my heart idols are busted and smashed to smithereens, where the part of me that wants to feel needed, utilized or admired is being cleansed and re-calibrated rightly, to the true north of my King and His admiration and unceasing love for me.  It is a place where I am more fully aware that all my moments belong to Him and, therefore, should be spent lavishly upon loving Him and others…and not on my own selfishness.  It is a place free from restlessness, nervousness, fear or wondering if I am up to par, so to speak.  It is a destination of love.  An embrace of grace.  It is ultimate freedom. 

And can I tell you that, as painful as this process is – because it is a dying - it is the most freeing and beautiful place I have ever been thus far on my journey.  The striving has lulled, the “to-do” list has shortened, and I have awakened to an exhilarating landscape where I am not defined by my gifts, by my accomplishments, by my roles, by my latest album or song penned, by the last time I led worship and how effective I felt, by how the world feels about me, by my age, my beauty, my past, present or future, by my failures or successes.  Here in this field of grace, I am defined by my Abba.   He says I am beloved and beautiful, perfectly accepted and cherished, simply because I am His.   He says I am covered in His blood.  I am adequate.  He tells me I am a child of the King with a great inheritance, because of what He has done, not based on my own doing.  And while He is the one who created me with this palette of gifts, talents, tendencies and desires, He never intended for them to take such priority or to become a reflection of my worth, success or spirituality.  He always intended to have me enjoy His company first and to carry His light burden, rather than the sack of rocks I’ve had slung over my shoulder. 

So, it is my prayer that His definition of who I am is what continues to drive my choices, my passion and my moments - that my goals and desires are completely drown in His love for me, submitted to wherever His river rambles.    I pray that this clarity and focus that has me mesmerized by and resting in my Shepherd King would continue to consume me in its simplicity and beauty ‘til I won’t even bother seeking any greater joy than the complete joy found in His sweet smile and company.   Oh, to spend a life on that which He deems of greatest worth - Himself - and not on the trappings of all the things that look so worthy, shiny and promising.  This is my aim.  I set my eyes on Jesus...my goal, my joy and my reward.  May His love's refrain sing over me and stop me from running after anything or anyone else that would be a cheap counterfeit of His glorious serenade.  

Let this be my life…

Wholly His.

Lovingly accepted.

And beautifully redefined. 

"Heaven knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon the blinding dust of our hearts.  - Great Expectations / Charles Dickens 

I must confess, around this time of year, two things happen for me.  First, I get this anticipatory gleeful emotion that Christmas is coming!  Fa-la-la-la-la!  The lights, the festivities, the gift giving, the family and friends, the celebration of Christ’s birth.  Light the candles!  Put on the Christmas music!  Break out the cookie cutters!  Deck the halls!  Bring on the snow! 

And then something else happens.  And try as I may to ignore it or get rid of it, an ache appears.   I feel it settling in me now, and instead of pushing it aside this year or dismissing it, I am calling it to attention.   In my attempt to sort through it, I’ve made my way through a laundry list of potential ache-causing items that would cause this pang to surface particularly acutely during the holiday season.  It would be easy to point back to my parent’s divorce, when I was twelve, how it pushed the family in two or more different directions, making me feel like I was no longer “normal” and Christmas was something to be avoided because of its sheer awkwardness. Gift giving felt like a way to earn love, rather than display it.  And while, yes, this has made life more complicated and less than “ideal,” I don’t sense this is the core of the ache.

As I sift through more of my memories, I recall at least nine Christmases of my married life where I vacillated between joy and deep sorrow because of the journey of infertility we were facing.  Bursting pregnant bellies and newborns greeted me at every Christmas family gathering year after year, and I smiled, sipped punch and then ran for the bedroom when I felt the tears well up beyond my control.  Yes, these were difficult years and I will never be the same because of them.  But this current and recurring ache doesn’t seem to stem from that place either. 

And today, as I write, I think of some of my dearest friends who are single and longing to be married.  They are beautiful, Godly & precious…and they wait.  I have friends still facing the pain of infertility, and I ache with them in their longing and questions.  I think of a friend who lost her spouse in September to illness and another last January in the Haitian earthquake.  Oh, the pain they must feel now as they gather their little ones around without Daddy.  And still another friend is walking through a betrayal in her marriage, longing for “forever-after” after watching it crumble.  Many families I know are still in a financial tailspin, due to unemployment.  Several are nursing loved ones back to health, trusting God to bring healing and restoration, trying to keep life as “normal” as possible, in the meantime.  Mark, Christian and I are still there, somewhat – adjusting to what these new limitations mean, since Mark’s accident last year.  We walk with a “holy limp.” Several dear friends are grieving the loss of their children who have gone to be with Jesus.  Some are estranged from loved ones or praying that a prodigal will come home at last, peering out the window or down the road hoping to see a silhouette on the horizon.  Whatever our particular story, each of us is trying to piece together what Christmas is “supposed” to look like.  And even those families that seem to be picture perfect – you know, the Norman Rockwell type – and the kind with which we all tend to compare ourselves, especially at this time of year -  you may not see it, but there’s pain there too.  It just might be stuffed inside the turkey or something. 

So, what is this ache that rises in me now?  Certainly, all the reasons listed here are reason enough for any of us to ache.  Yes, indeed, they are.  And God has created our hearts to ache in order to grieve & to process – it’s good and healthy and necessary.  But there’s something more multi-faceted in this ache for me - something more than grieving circumstances or loss - and yet my circumstances seem to be the very thing that expose the ache more fully.  While I can’t answer for you, I will answer for myself (though I have a sneaking suspicion that it may be true for all of us).  The deeper ache, masked by the pain of this life, is revealed in my discovery that I have put my great expectations in the wrong place.   Let me explain…

In the book of John chapter 16, Jesus is preparing His beloved disciples for His impending death and departure from them.   He is trying to bring them comfort by telling them that the Holy Spirit will come to them once He departs, and that eventually their grief will turn to joy, and that they will have access to the Father directly now.  But the disciples don’t get it.  And I certainly wouldn’t think it would bring much comfort to them when their glaring and overriding thoughts must’ve been, “But Jesus, You are leaving us!  The One our hearts have loved.  The One living and breathing among us!  Please don’t leave us!”   Their security was gone in a heartbeat.  All the sacrifice they had made - their businesses and their families, even their reputations – only three years ago?   Up in smoke.  They were in this for the long haul!  And their hearts, above all, must’ve been breaking beyond measure.  They loved Jesus, and this was no time to leave and turn in their dust-covered sandals.  Not now.  Not ever. 

But then Jesus deposits these words into their aching hearts, “I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world.” 

Selah.

These are the words before which I must lay down my great expectations gone awry.  This is the place where I realize I am living in a world where “ache” is built into its operating system.  This is the moment I see more so with Heaven’s eyes in that I know, ultimately, this world is not my home, and that is why I feel so out of sorts here at times. 

And what’s so amazing and precious about Jesus is that He wanted us to know it would be tough and  wanted to comfort us in the midst of that.  He didn’t have to tell the disciples…”OK, you thought it was tough up ‘til now.  Well, just wait…it gets much worse.”  But He did.  And then He said…”But here’s the deal, I am everything you need and will continue to be everything you need!  It’s not going to make sense.  Nothing down here will, until you’re with Me again.  But I am your deep Peace in the midst of this troublesome place.  The only Sure Thing.  And the good news is that I have already overcome all this pain and death for you.  So I’m asking you to take heart.” 

“Take heart.”  Take heart means to “be of good cheer, take courage, be confident, certain, undaunted.”  Undaunted means “not intimated by difficulty, danger or disappointment.”    There have been too many times I have not “taken heart,” but I am doing so now. 

I have subconsciously hoped and expected way too long for a life that would somehow be “ache-free.”  I think I’ve felt that if I worked through this issue or got through that season that peace might come more deeply…then.  And guess what?  It didn’t…and it doesn’t, as long as I’m waiting for something in this world to give me that peace.  But, alas, the ache does have a purpose!  It reveals the gaping hole in my heart.  And the only possible Person in this entire Galaxy who can bring the kind of peace that can apply a Holy balm to that ache of ours is a man and a King named Jesus Christ, and He broke through time and space to make it so.  

So, this Christmas and every day that follows, let us not ignore the ache or stop the tears from flowing.  No.  Instead, let’s make our way to a humble stable, filled with stinky animals in a sin-drenched world, gently nudging our way through the shepherds and the hay, up to the edge of a trough holding a tender King.  And there, let us lay our heart down….ache and all.  For in the Holy light of the Prince of Peace and in the shadow of the cross He came to bear, this journey makes sense at last, and our greatest expectations are beautifully fulfilled.  

Merry Christmas…

The busiest season of the year is upon us - that chunk of calendar between Thanksgiving and Christmas when the festivities, the gift-giving, the parties, the hustle-bustle and, oh, the yummy food all pile up into one big pile of "busy!"  Even the sacrifice of time and service that we offer during this time contributes to the craziness, albeit precious and valuable.  And while this is easily my favorite time of the year, it can also be the time that leaves me feeling most empty and drained, if I do not seize the opportunity to slow down, absorb and revel in that tender night in Bethlehem when a Babe was born to save you and me. Most of the world failed to notice the arrival of the King of kings that Holy eve, and I do not want to be guilty of the same.  

I led worship at a retreat called Quiet Places this last weekend, up in beautiful Estes Park.  To be honest, I went into the weekend completely exhausted.  We've had a busy season in our family and ministry and I think the last year and a half since Mark's accident (not to mention the two albums I worked on!) have caught up with me.  I needed quiet, yes...but what I really wanted was the quiet place of a soft pillow and a bed in which to sleep!  So spiritual, huh?  But the Lord knew how weary I was, and I asked Him for His help and to meet me.  "Meet me in my weakness, Lord, with Your power..."  I prayed.  I was expectant that He would provide strength, but I did not expect the gift that I actually received.  

Through a combination of the teaching, which was God-breathed, & times of worship, along with some sweet and precious times of solitude I spent with the Lord,  I discovered a part of me that must've been laying dormant for some time.   It was awakening.  It was this child-like part of me that truly believed that God wants to meet with me just as eagerly as I want to meet with Him.  He wants to be found by me, as much as I desperately want to find and hear from Him.  Now, I've known this in my head, but somewhere along the way, I lost this knowing in my heart and spirit and I think a part of me had wilted.  My expectations had faded...

"Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you, He rises to show you compassion...blessed are all who wait for Him..."  (Isaiah 30: 18)

As the weekend and the last few days have unfolded, He has revealed Himself in so many wonderful ways.  And it's true!  God longs to pour out all the riches of Himself upon us.  It brings Him great joy!  He longs to hear the cries of our hearts and to shower us with the rain of His presence.  He desires to encompass us with all of Himself and it makes His heart full when we bask in the warmth of His love and receive the gift of Him each day.  He longs to lavish His love upon us!  Do you believe that?  Really?  Or have your disappointments caused you to expect less of God than He longs to give you?  

I know this sounds so simplistic and it's hard to put into words how full my heart is...but it's as if God has opened my spirit to an even sweeter way of knowing and experiencing Him, a tender place of Father and child that goes beyond what I have experienced up 'til now.  It feels incredibly safe and immeasurably satisfying.  And I praise Him for it!   God longs to meet with us every single day.  And not just once.  He longs to permeate our moments.  It is possible for His thoughts to so fill us that our mind and heart are truly set on things above, not making us less effective at our earthly tasks, but more.  

So, as we enter this busy, busy season, will you join me in making space to discover Him, or rediscover Him?  It will look different for each one of us, but if we make quietness, trust and rest in Him our heart's cry, we will be transformed. We will be made strong again.  And we will be filled with wonder...

Will you join me?  

Well, as we walked up to the kindergarten playground - the special fenced off one for the youngest and newest members of the school - I felt an ache in my gut.  I saw a little girl clinging to her Mama, clearly not very excited about this first day.  But Christian turned to me and said, "Mom, do you want to swing with me?"  And I said..."yes, I do..I do want to swing with you."  And we took off for the fenced in, kindergarten swings, Daddy looking on. We swung for a while and I felt a little lump in my throat.  But we hopped off and I was fine. 

Suddenly, Christian's teacher came out to playground at the front of the sidewalk with a sign that said "Ms. Brown," and the children were to line up in single file behind her and her happy, yellow sign.  Christian lined right up with his backpack and his fellow adventurers.  Wait...is that a tear I feel trying to surface upon my eyeball?  Blink...blink....hey, I have a thought!  Now would be a good time for a picture.  Break out the camera. Click.  Meltdown averted.  

They let the parents go into the classroom for a special storytime to kick the day off, and so Mark and I decided to go in, though Christian seemed perfectly content to march in single file without us.  Christian found his hook, hung up his backpack, located his name tag on his table and went to sit on the rug for story-time.  Mark and I leaned against the back counter of the room and watched and listened along with the other parents.  And then, with no warning at all, tears that could not be dammed began to flow, as if story time had magical powers to lure the fluid from my eyes.  Smiling, blurry-eyed, each time Christian would look back at us, I brushed away the tears in between glances.  I reached for the camera again.  Seems this method has helped me in the past to stay distracted and capture a moment rather than feel it.  

And as I sat there, I remembered my first day of kindergarten.  It was not a pretty situation at all.  I had been to preschool and done just fine. But when Kindergarten Day 1 hit, my little life fell apart.  I was terrified.  I was undone.  I became a total wreck. I screamed with horror as I saw the big yellow monster that was the school bus approach our stop.  I simply would not get on.  So my Mom drove me to school and I yelled in anguish as she tried to bring me to the classroom.  I have visions of Mrs. Beam, the principal, helping my Mom drag me down the hall to her office.  The problem was, this did not only occur on kindergarten day 1...this occurred on kindergarten day 2, day 3, day 4, day 5...and, well, you get the picture.  It was enough days that the school recommended I go to a child psychologist to figure out what was wrong with "this child."  So I looked at ink blots and spots and dots and their determination in the end, which was no help to me or my parents, was that I was "gifted." Excuse me?  Gifted with what?  A propensity for terror and panic?  Well, perhaps.  So, they sent me on my way.  And eventually, I went into the classroom and did OK. I went on to win the spelling bee that year. (insert applause here) I ran track and field and got a few ribbons. (hooray!)  But most amazing of all, I conquered my fears and survived. 

I still feel like that kindergartener some days.  Some weeks.  OK...some months.  The only difference is that I am quite a bit older now, quite a bit bigger, rarely carry a lunch box, and have many trusty experiences under my belt that let me know that life is going to be OK.  It may not feel OK right now.  My heart might be about to explode in pieces.  But in the end I have to remember that Jesus said..."In this world you will have trouble, but fear not. I have overcome the world."  

So, as I sit here waiting to pick Christian up from Kindergarten Day 1, I am very thankful that his first day was very unlike mine.  And I also realize that some day it won't be "Mommy, will you come swing with me?"  It will be..."Mommy, can I take the car tonight?"  Or much later - though I know it will go by so quickly - "Mom, will you dance with me?" as Christian gets ready to walk into a life with a beautiful woman he will call his wife.  And I will try not to panic or freak out or bawl like a baby. And you will most likely see me grabbing for my camera...

Click.  

Life reminds me a lot of Colorado weather.  This last week, just when I packed up all my sweaters and warm items, we got a blizzard.  I knew, in the back of my mind, that this would probably happen, but something in me is eager to embrace the new season and so I move around stuff in the closet and get ready for SPRING!  Then...BOOM!...we get nailed with snow, and I have to break out the scarves and coats again.  Then, the next week it's 70 degrees.  It reminds me not to get too attached or too comfortable in the season I am in, because the Lord is constantly mixing things up, in a good way, in order to cause us to fully develop our "wardrobe." That wardrobe is the fruit of the Spirit and the weapons of our warfare.  And so, while I love those seasons where I feel like life is coasting along so smoothly, often I can find myself getting stagnate in my relationship with Him.  Then, when things shift and "winter" comes for a bit, He's reminding me of my deep need for Him.  Suddenly, in that harsh wind, His Spirit blows.   

Anyway, I was just thinking about that today, because two days ago we did have that blizzard, and today it is beautiful and sunny and soon to be warm again.  Seasons come and go, as does the craziness, joy and pain of life, but one thing is constant...our need for Him.  

Another thing God's been showing me, as He's been peeling back some of the layers I've allowed to accumulate around me, is how much I sometimes process life through the need to please others.  Does anyone else fall victim to that besides me?  Being a first-born, I was always the one who wanted to get straight A's, win the Spelling Bee (which I did, by the way), say the right thing, do the right thing, make everyone happy. Throw in the "artistic personality" and you got real trouble.  It's a house of cards, and if you carry those tendencies into your adult life, you tend to order your life around what "others" want or need of you, rather than being true and authentic.  God has been showing me that tendency in me...the tendency to protect and to operate in fear, at times, rather than faith.  So, I'm learning.  I'm asking Him to slow me down and speak to me in those moments so I can rightly divide the truth - to love and live more authentically.  

What's God doing in your life right now?  I'd love to hear from you.  What new things is He showing you about you, your family and  your faith?  My prayer for you is the same as it is for me..."God, get me where I can be best utilized for Your glory...and if I am blind or mid-guided, please protect me from myself, so that I might be fully used for Your name's sake.  Set me free from all that holds me back from being salt and light in this world.  Use me, Lord.  Heal me, that I might help bring healing to others.  May I find my satisfaction in YOU, Lord."

Thanks for listening to my ramblings!  May the Lord find you in the very place that you are right now and speak tenderly to you, leading you into fertile places..."  

Last night I opened for a Selah concert and I got a chance to meet and go to dinner with Angie Smith (Todd's wife) & the rest of the gang. She was so incredibly real and authentic and we instantly connected. During the course of our conversation, we both came to the conclusion that probably THE most endearing characteristic in a person is authenticity.  I LOVE it when people are unafraid to let it all hang out...not in a self-indulgent way or a pity party way - but in a way that lets you know that they aren't trying to create some sort of false image of themselves.  I also love (& try to be this way, though I'm sure I often fail) when people are more interested in others than themselves - whether it be in the midst of a conversation or by realizing how much we think of ourselves throughout the day and what might improve OUR day, rather than how we might improve someone else's.  Gollee, I am guilty of that so often.  

All that said, I decided last night that more than ever before, I want to share my heart and my journey on these pages.  Not that I haven't up to this point, but I think we, as Christ-followers - need to get real and not be afraid to show it.  We also need to care deeply for one another. And I mean not just in words, but in deeds.  Care enough to be honest.

OK, so enough about that.  As Angie and I were talking last night over dinner, we landed on the subject of motherhood and the subject of infertility came up.  I couldn't help but remember a maddening email that I received once.  Truly, 99% of emails that I receive are precious and heartfelt and encouraging, but this particular one was so upsetting. Not long after adopting our son, I began posting several pictures and journal entries about this answer to prayer.  Knowing fully that this was God's plan for us, I was shocked when I received an email that said that "if we could raise our level of faith then we would have actually been able to have a biological child and not been forced to adopt."  Wow...I'm sorry, did I really just read that?  This emailer went on to share their testimony about how God had answered their prayers after they raised their faith levels and given them several children.  I stared dumb-founded at the computer screen after reading this...very briefly tempted to respond.  But knowing that would get me absolutely nowhere, I casually reached up and hit the "delete" key.  

It took me back to the mid-90's, when I was at Christ for the Nations and a dear, precious friend of mine named Kerri Hulen was fighting valiantly for her life.  She had breast cancer.  With the best intent, many professors, students and other faculty would encourage her to repent of any unconfessed sin in her life, raise her levels of faith, and most certainly she would be healed.  I watched her repent of things that probably weren't even sin, as she struggled to survive for her husband and two toddlers.  I watched her fight for her life, all the while wondering if it was somehow HER fault that she was sick.  There were days I had no words.  I, too, was confused.  This was the first time I was an eyewitness to someone literally fighting to survive.  I wanted to believe that if we did all the right things & confessed the right Scriptures that all would be well.  After a five year battle, Kerri went home to be with Jesus.  While she was struggling to live, I was struggling to bring life into this world.  Both of us were crying out to God, but not getting the answer we expected.  

And there are millions of stories that are similar.  Over the years, through the struggle with infertility that Mark and I had, I received many "words from the Lord" given to me by people.  I've seen many precious Christ-followers be catapulted into deep, deep valleys of pain plagued by all the "why's." And I've heard many, many testimonies of God's healing power and deliverance as well.  There was no common denominator, where those with GREAT faith got the miracle and those with lesser faith continued to muddle along in their trials.  Not so.

The fact is that God is the One who decides.  I'm not saying that there aren't things we do that hinder His power in our lives and there are many things He "allows" but does not necessarily "cause."  Certainly. But if our hearts are turned toward Him, our desire is for Him, and our lives are surrendered to Him, we are in HIS hands.  He is speaking to us, He is living in and through us.  He is authoring our stories.  He is putting the finishing touches on each chapter of our lives.  Sometimes the chapter is marred by deep pain.  But He has promised to make those valleys fertile places and to never leave us nor forsake us.  

OK...so my theology has changed, I suppose, over the years.  Or I guess I've let go of my need to understand and have pat answers and I'm learning to trust more and more in a God that I do not fully comprehend, who is wild at heart, but who is incomprehensibly good.  

So, yes, I hit the "delete" key that night over a year ago when I read that email.  But I suppose this is my response now.  My honest response.  If you can look in the beautiful eyes of my son and tell me that it isn't God's miraculous plan to place him into our arms, then I do not believe that you fully understand the nature of who He is.  For He is the very One who burst through time & poured out His blood in order to ransom us & pluck us out of certain death and adopt us as His sons and daughters.  And guess what?  That was not Plan B.  The Lamb was slain before the foundations of the world.  

Every story is different.  God isn't predictable.  His Word is true and it is infallible.  But in this world we will have trouble.  Ah, but fear not, He has overcome the world.  And He will see fit that ALL things we face will work together for good when we love Him and are called according to His purpose.  Not a trite answer.  Just a fact.  

So, to address the question of whether or not my friend Kerri or I (or any other person experiencing a great trial) have a problem with our faith levels.  How does one even answer that?  As if we could ever "earn" a miracle or deserve anything at all, as we lie in a pile of filthy rags, thinking we have even an ounce of righteousness in and of ourselves.  I am not saying that faith does not please the Lord.  And with all my heart, I desire for my faith in HIM to be great.  But if we examine the Word and the accounts therein, we will find that pain and faith are close companions.  And as a result, together they often birthed greater miracles than any mind could've conceived or prayed for.  And so they did in our son, Christian.  Our miracle.  God's gift.  His story unfolding in our lives, for His glory.  The labor of pain and faith birthed at long last.  

This is my very first journal entry on my new website!  And I am embarrassed to see that my last one was dated June 20th!  Oh my...

Well, thankfully, there is such a thing as a "new beginning" or a "fresh start" and it is my hope that I will be better at "blogging" this coming year.  

It's been quite a year - full of glimpses of God's great faithfulness everywhere I look. Even in the painful chapters of this year, ones I wouldn't care to re-live, I can see His touch as He carefully worked it all according to the good of this child who loves Him.  

One life-changing thing that happened this year was the fact that I had the privilege of visiting a federal prison several times down in Canon City, CO with another friend of mine from Woodmen Valley Chapel in Colorado Springs.  We went, along with the Chaplain there (who is also an incredible bass player at our church!), and spent time with the prisoners, many who have been set free by Jesus Christ.  They have several guys who form their worship team, and you should hear those guys rock the house for Jesus!  That room swells with so much praise, you think the walls are going to fall down.  

One afternoon when we were down there, we asked one of the guys to share his story with us, as we all sat eating lunch.  He said he had no desire to ever share his story again, because every time he had it was in front of a judge who rejected him and threw him back into the system. His story represented shame, rejection, denial & bondage.  But between that visit and the next, God began to work on Hop's heart (that's his name).  He began to realize that his story belongs to the Lord and that maybe it was time he shared it, for whatever purpose God might have for him to do so.  And he shared his story with us that day...it goes like this.  

Hop was a teenager when it all happened.  He and his brother got into a huge fight with a gang.  No one was killed, but many were badly injured. Because the gang they were fighting with was of another race, Hop was charged with a hate crime and multiple felonies, resulting in about a 60 year sentence.  (Hop is now in his mid-thirties)  

Upon arriving at the Denver County Jail, he was thrown down into the "hole" for 40 days and nights.  All that was down there was a filthy toilet, a bed frame (no mattress) and behind the toilet was a dirty, torn up, tattered Bible.  Well, not having a whole lot else to do, Hop began to read it.  He read that Bible from cover to cover, who knows how many times, while he was down there.  And while he did, the Living Word came and impacted him in ways that absolutely transformed His life.  The Word came to life while he was down in the dark place.  While he was in that hole, Hop gave his life to the Lord in a dramatic way, and simply can not get enough of the Word of God ever since.  He is now fluent in Hebrew and Greek and teaches the Word of God to the inmates every week.  

Needless to say, my friend Cindy and I were in tears.  The power of one person's story should not be diminished.  Sometimes the most painful parts of that story are the parts that God can most use to heal another life.  We experienced the power of "story" that day.  

A few of us, including our Pastor (Matt Heard), planned to head down to do a special Christmas program for the inmates in December.  The theme was going to be "the gift of words."  Cindy mentioned that it might be neat if I wrote a song for the guys.  So, I tucked that idea in my pocket and planned to try to do so later.  In November, it came time to think about it again and try to write a song.  As I began to pray and process, that picture of Hop in the bottom of that "hole" came to me. And in an instant the words "tattered pages" came across my mind's eye.  I emailed what I was thinking to Cindy and she said..."girl, that is SO the title of the song!"  I said, "ya think?"  And so, I began to write. And like all "creations" that the Holy Spirit gives, the song was finished that evening and I truly felt so aware that He had deposited it into my heart and I was simply His vessel pouring out the words and music on paper.  

Well, to try to abbreviate the rest of this story...we ended up singing this song at the prison on December 16th and it was such a special time with the inmates.  And it was so special to see Hop's story come to life now in a song.  It was fun to bring a bunch of food and decorations in and throw them a big Christmas party!  The big "hit" of the party were the creme puffs bought from Sam's Club!  

Well, it didn't end there.  My church decided that perhaps we should use the song "Tattered Pages" for our Christmas Eve services!  I was so excited.  Then, Cindy had the idea that we should record the song and give it away to everyone that comes that day/night.  And so I did!  

The reason I'm sharing this story isn't at ALL to say..."isn't that cool how they used my song?"  Oh, no...not at all.  It is cool and as a songwriter, it is so neat to see a song get wings.  But, what is amazing to me is the power of our story.  Hop is a prisoner.  (not on the inside, but in the natural) For all intents and purposes, he feels like his story is worthless.  Or he DID feel that say.  But because he was willing to say, "hey, my story belongs to God," a heart was touched, then a song was birthed.  And because a song was birthed, we were able to sing it at the prison for many hearts.  And then, as a result, his story got recorded through song to be given to the thousands of people who walked through that door to attend Christmas Eve services.  Those people took his story home with him.  They are sharing his story with other people who need to hear the story.  

And you, my friend, you have a story.  I have a story.  Some of it is stuff we'd rather not anyone know about.  Some of it is painful.  And, of course, there is a time and place for all things.  But, please, don't diminish your story and stuff it down thinking only the pretty, shiny parts of you are what God can use.  I find as we look through the Scripture that God tends to used tarnished, tattered stories quite often, don't you?  God is the author and finisher of our faith.  He is the Potter. He is the Great Composer.  And somehow, in His amazing grace, He has a way of weaving our stories together in a tapestry and impacting one another.  It's like a domino effect.  I find it incredible and I stand amazed at how our Awesome God works.  

So, if you find yourself looking at the "tattered pages" of your life wondering how on earth God could ever use this or that chapter.  Oh, our God is full of all kinds of surprises and miracles.  Nothing is wasted in His book.  No one is without purpose.  Give Him your story.  Trust Him with it.  For He is good...and there is a world in need of hearing the miracle He has written upon the pages of your life.  

I just finished reading the book "The Shack."  it impacted me greatly and I'm still processing. But one quote toward the end stood out to me with regard to the significance of our lives.  It is as follows:

(The Holy Spirit is speaking to Mack, the main character, about whether or not his story is significant) "Mack, if anything matters then everything matters.  Because you are important, everything you do is important.  Every time you forgive, the universe changes; every time you reach out and touch a heart or a life, the world changes: with every kindness and service, seen or unseen, my purposes are accomplished and nothing will ever be the same again..."

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