When Heaven Touches Real World Flesh...

Four years ago today, I fell in love with Jesus.

Falling in love started when my RA sent me off to a prayer and worship night at a student's apartment with a group of girls I didn't know. Everything inside of my eager-to-please body should have questioned where I was going and why, but I didn't because I saw potential friendships, which I craved so strongly. As the night carried on and I squeamishly backed into a corner in the kitchen away from all the "real" action, I remember saying "God if you are real, prove it." And just like that, He spoke to  me.

Now I wish I could say that it was a love at first sight, or in this case, love at first word, type of love story. But it was far from that- my scars ran too deep and I surely was not about to just sell myself out for something, or someone, intangible. Anyone who knows me well enough, knows I ran as fast and as hard as I could.

But alas, love waits. And this love; the love that casts out fear, knows no bounds, is covered in grace and mercy, and ultimately never fails; this love captured the deepest part of my heart that night. Four years in, I am still learning the depths of what this truly looks like.

***

This season has been by far one of the most heart wrenching and overwhelming I've yet to endure. I've spent the majority of my time running hard into this world, rebuilding walls I had long been free of, and banging my fists against walls that simply barricaded me from empty air. But four years to the day God first spoke to my heart, I'm humbly brought back to the foot of the cross, where Jesus has met me in my deepest pain. He's drawn me in and reminded me of what real, tangible love has, and will always look like.

Flashes of images overwhelm my mind as I'm gently reminded:::

 

Love looks like brothers and sisters going to war for your freedom. It looks like prayer without ceasing. Promises being poured out, day and night. It looks like sacrificing a dream for the heart of a child. Gaining another soul for the Kingdom of Heaven. It looks like "I love you" texts on random nights. Heart filled conversations, where tears are shed and laughter fills the air. It's a shoulder to cry on. Love looks like children climbing your back as you enter a barrio in a third world country. Welcoming a stranger into your home, even if that home is merely shambles of sheets and water basins. It looks like staring into the face of death and declaring that the war has already been won. Love looks like sitting in a hospital room with someone you fell in love with. It looks like enduring heartbreak. Love looks like friends sitting in silence with you at 1am when you've hit bottom. It looks like community. It is friends who hold you up when all you want to do is lay down. Love looks like professors who pray over you and rally alongside you for the promise of a future. It looks like pure, unfiltered grace when you don't deserve it.

Love looks like and is the core of who Jesus is.

***

 

As I sit here, I'm choosing to position myself in awe of a God who felt me worthy enough to bring me from the vast shadow of death and into the hope of eternal life. But I can't help but wonder what life would be if I didn't know Jesus. Have you ever stopped to think, "Man, what if His grace never found me? What if I stayed on that path of utter destruction?" To be honest, I don't know that I would still be alive. That in itself is a soccer punch of sorts, to remember the pain and to realize that even in the driest day when the greatest battles are raging, death has lost its hold. Although we may lose the battle, our God has already won the war.


Now, I don't know about you, but if there is one thing I can say without doubt, it is that I'm more grateful on this warm Tuesday night than I've ever been, to know that the creator of the universe has called me wholly His.


From the Lips of a Faithful Father to an Unfaithful Servant.

There's a white veil amidst seas of green grass and trees. Wide open land. He's standing at the furthest edge, just barely insight; hand outstretched. I'm not moving, just staring. Everything turns black.

It's been one of the toughest seasons I've ever walked through. For the past two years I've waivered, knowing the goodness of God, yet falling short of the glory of God, time and time again. But I never fell away- I was always hanging by a thread; by a glimpse of hope.

But something inside of me  broke in these past few weeks, and the thread severed. I lost myself.

You see, I lost love. I let myself drift and give into temptation after temptation, and love became conditional. And more often than that, it became hate. Hatred towards a community I've settled in, and that has loved me unconditionally. Hatred towards family that cannot think rationally. Hatred towards my own brokenness that I was stubbornly hanging on to. I began to dwell in this hatred, and every ounce of love that the Father has instilled in me was gone. I don't know if I could have fallen any lower.

For the first time I really questioned if God really existed; and if He did, how could He allow my life to fall to pieces that I couldn't seem to pick up? I ignored the truth that I have known and that has kept me hanging on for so long. My head spinning with truth:

"I've already written this story, Lindsay. Just live it. You're stronger than this. Don't abandon love. I'm still here. I've gone before and I'll be here long after. Don't succumb to the promises of this world. I have already overcome."

And still I chose the lies that told me this situation is hopeless and that death will conquer. Lies. I gave the enemy room in my head and he was quick to move in.

***

I hit rock bottom about a week ago. Talking was out of the question; I had spent so much time learning to filter my emotions, that I didn't know if these feelings were "acceptable." I began to realize that I was reverting to walls around my heart because for so long I had people telling me, "Those feelings wont fix anything. That won't do any good."

The fact is that I spent so much of my life not being real. But when I gave my life to God, I tore down those walls and masks I hid behind for so long. Guys, real people have real emotions. We can chose to ignore them, or we can confess them with one another and lay them down. One leads to harboring resentment and bitterness. The other leads to freedom and peace.

So I made my choice. I found myself driving in the car with a close friend, who after letting me vent for a period of time took hold of my wildly beating heart. "You were the one who encouraged me when I was ready to give up. You were the one telling me that God still loved me. I love you. And I need you." Love pierced through the darkness. Was I really ready to abandon my faith, and the promises He has spoken to my heart? Or am I ready to lay down my life, and pick up my cross, trusting Him to lead me down a path He's already walked down Himself? Am I ready to leave my heart and all of the mess it is fully in His hands?

***

 

I'm not sure why my heart was so led to this post. It's messier than most anything I've written. But I think there's someone out there who need to know that He is worth laying down for. He takes our messy hearts everyday, even when we play tug-a-war. While we get so caught up in life, we forget to realize that He has already written our story. He knows our hearts. Sees the mess. Restores the brokenness.

And more than anything; He is faithful, even when we are not.

 



Reaping the Father's Heart

My alarm clock ticked as I lay heavy under the warm comfort of the covers. One minute, two minutes, three minutes pass... laying lifeless. The room seems dark, despite the rising sun peeking in through the sheer curtains. Weighted with conviction, I closed my eyes, wishing the day to continue without me, when I remembered my phone going off in the middle of the night. Inching one hand out, I grabbed my phone, and reread the texts that had come in through the night that I had invariably read half asleep hours earlier. Amidst the moment, God said 'you reap what you sow into.'

     The night before I had found myself angry and frustrated, uttering the words I knew I never meant; 'I hate you.' Repeatedly. Deflected with love and love that seeps beyond circumstance or behavior, I spit back 'I hate you.' Again and again. What was just a defense against letting someone else love me in brokenness, I let myself sow into hate. And when the early morning came, I reaped in the conviction of a misplaced heart and words of death.

     Galatians 6:7-8 says "Do not be deceived: God cannot be mocked. A man reaps what he sows. Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life." Simple right? But do we always think about what we are sowing into? Words are just said, actions are just done... and we move forward with each passing moment. Often without thought.

    It's been a few days now of staring at that verse and the constant presence of those words. While it is true that if we say words of destruction, we will see destruction from them, we sometimes forget that the very creator of our hearts is on the throne and He sees our hearts through and through. Past bitter moments where words slip out and where hurtful actions sometimes come to pass. .

     If you want to reap a world of love, you must sow into that. If you want to reap in the presence of intentional people, you yourself must first be intentional. If you want to reap a heart of passion, you must sow into a life of reckless abandon to the King of all Kings. Greater than all of these- the very truth of this verse in Galatians- if you want to reap a life engulfed in the presence of God, you must sow into the gifts and promises of Him. Because whether we are in a storm or the calm, He is still on the throne.

     When I asked Him to give me revelation on this seemingly simple verse, He said to me that there is more meaning in our hearts intention. That He sees our intentions from the core, not the surface. Sitting in this boggling revelation, I realized that those brief moments when I fail to my flesh, when I say things I never meant to say, when I let my frustration overshadow my need and desire for love; He has prevailed in exposing my heart. While I laid heavy in conviction the following morning, I did not reap eternal destruction from my words, because I have spent my days sowing into the heart of the Father, not the heart of the enemy. He's quick to correct, not punish.

     I don't know about you, but I want to reap a harvest of intentional and unconditional love. I want to reap a harvest that emulates the Father's heart in every moment and every crop. Because He see's our hearts desire for Him or for this world. What is the harvest that you are sowing into?

    

Dominican Republic: An Overflow of Love

They watched as the truck bounced over the potholes in the streets, coming to a stop beside the houses. The barrios have instantaneously taken a large part of my heart, and eager to get out and see which kids were around, I hurridly got out of the car. As the door shut behind me, three Haitian girls ran and pounced on top of me. A gringa. I picked them up, hugging them tightly, my heart overflowing with love. I was made for this.

I was made for this. Not necessarily this exact location or these exact children. But this kind of love. The love that these kids show unconditionally. And the love that I get to give back, hoping that it reaches even half of what they have to give. But more than that, the love of the Father.

These kids take me by the hand, touch my feet, my legs, my arms, all in amazement. I'm white. And they are black, by color's terms. But we all come from the same God who created this universe, making us brothers and sisters by love and by supernatural creation. Something I began to dwell in today, as these girls took me as I was, where I am.

In America, we love on so many conditions. If someone doesn't answer us in our own time, if they neglect to acknowledge our presence, or if they just don't like us, we automatically withdraw our love. We don't grasp the love that God had and has for us. He gave His only begotten son so we could live, yet we ease ourselves away from living like He commands, because our own feelings matter more. How much we can gather in possessions matters more. But here, these people have nothing.

Yet they have grasped the greatest concept, to love thy neighbor as they love themselves. They have no reason to love me. Just as before with trusting me or believing in me. But yet, as I walked through the barrio, a mother holding a sleeping child stood up to offer her chair, others kissed my cheek, embracing me as I walked in what was their territory and their homes. They love me unconditionally, whether I'm sick or healthy, white or black, if I have money or if I don't.

They love to the very essence of who Jesus is.

I can put on a good talk and ease most people through situations that are just battles with the enemy. It's just who I am and who God has called me to be. But my only true desire is to love as these people have loved me. Whether that be by talking through situations or sitting in complete silence- however that may look, that is who I want to be. Because when I came here, I thought I knew who Jesus was completely. I had the greatest friends, an amazing family, and was blessed beyond measure in possessions and being. But I lacked the notion of letting others love me exactly where I was at. I don't know that I knew what it was to overflow. 

Walking back to the car, I opened the door and felt two sticky arms wrap around my waist. I turned around to one of the girls hugging me from behind. As I bent down, she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed my cheek. 'Adios.' I was sold.

I'm completely sold on the love of Jesus Christ. More than anything in this world, I am sold. I was bought at a price, and that was His life. He gave me the air I breathe. And He is the love that overflows from my being.

He is the love that exudes from you and I. Even when it comes from one little Haitian child.

Dominican Republic: Finding Purpose

This hasn't been a place where Jesus is in your face evident. It's been a place of seeking, of believing, of trusting- even in the unseen and the unknown. Because still, He is here.

I've spent a lot of time asking why I was here. Questions of identity and purpose- why He would put me in a place where I was alone and stripped of everything I held dear. He knows my struggles with purpose and He knows I struggle in remaining faithful even when there is no fruit to be seen. So what was I doing here?


A few months ago, I had asked God why He asked me to love the way I love. And His answer was one that I never fully grasped until this past week.

I'd had kids climbing on me, jumping on my back as I walked holding two others, falling at my feet all week. Children encompassing the true reality of the love of Christ, with humility we can only hope for. But among them, few stood out, as they sat in the background.

She stood by me as the girls played in the rain. Staring blankly. No smile. No joy. I placed my hand on her shoulder and for a brief second, made eye contact. And then her eyes were on the floor again. There was so much brokenness that I wished I could cut off of her pure heart in that moment, but all I could give was love.

When we arrived at the club on Firday afternoon, I found her in the back room painting. Another brief moment of eye contact and it was back behind the walls. A sight I know all too well. But as the afternoon progressed, so did eye contact and so I took the opportunity and sat in the back room with her to color while the other kids played sports outside. The minutes ticked in pure silence, as I watched her. When I went to get up and walk past, she wrapped her arms around my waist and held onto me. For the first time, I felt the walls break down.

He called me here to love, because I love beyond circumstance. He's called me to love, because I know the lack there of. I know the pain. And I know the confusion. But more than anything, I know His love.

When I first got to the Dominican Republic, I thought I was here to see how He is working in this country. But I've found that it has been so much more about finding my identity and purpose in Him and establishing His will for my life. Sometimes we seek to find Him in others, when we need to merely look within ourselves to see Him working.

We are merely vessels of light and hope. When the darkness is overwhelming, He is everpresent. And we are His people.

Republica Dominicana: Learning Trust

The smell was faint, but amidst the dry heat, everpresent. But there I sat, little black and sticky arms of a six year old Haitian girl wrapped around my neck, inhaling a smell I can only describe as that of old infant formula on a sweaty child- a smell that a few months ago made me naseous. Only now, I put my head against hers and just sat as minutes ticked by, and her arms tightened around my neck.

I could have put her down at that moment and told her in broken spanish to go color or play with the few children still straggling around as their mothers gathered to collect their monthly food, but my heart was open for her. After all, to her I was just a Gringa (how they refer to white females), and she had absolutely no reason to trust me. Or to find safety in my arms. Yet there she clung.

***



These children here, they find their safety in Jesus Christ. They trust in Him, because without Him, their circumstances are hopeless. It clicked as I held that little girl and her mother looked at me, more appreciative for someone loving on her daughter than quite possibly that food she was there to receive. His playground is this dirt floor, his playmates are the poor- because they trust and find safety in Him, when this place is anything but safe.

They grasp that it isn't this world that is supposed to be safe- but Him, who we find shelter and security in. How many of us can honestly say that we find safety in Jesus on a daily basis, that we seek it in Him? I know I don't. I fail daily. I've begun to realize how much of my safety comes in things of this world- in a car, in the money that keeps me from poverty, in friends who put walls up around me to keep me "safe." Yet most of the time, that safety turns into barriers that keep me from the heart of who God is, and I sink back into the "reality" of this world.

All these barriers and walls that have been put in place as a "safety" measure in my life have left me with little old me and nobody else. Because what I consider trust is to more often pour my heart out in bits and pieces, and then pull the gates back up and lock the door. But in nothing more than a couple of hours, I had children climbing up my back, while two clung to each of my sides, arms wrapped around my neck. When is the last time you even hugged someone you knew for more than five minutes? The outpouring of love here is not conditional, and is a pure reflection of the trust that I've mistaken my own definition for. Trust in Jesus Christ, and through that, trusting in those who are led by Him. They grasp something I have seemed to miss the mark on.

I don't say any of this lightly. I've been one to make excuses for why I lack trust and why my heart stays on guard even around my closest friends and Jesus Himself. Years of pain and confusion. Hurt and destruction. Yet these children here- they still pour out the grace and love that only comes from trusting in God. And they live lives of poverty; drugs and prostitution, abuse and neglect. Every day. And still they trust.

What if we chose to live with our hearts on our sleeves, with the trust and security in Jesus that nothing can be against us if He is for us. These kids have something that we can't grasp. And that is that they have nothing to lose. And it is those who Jesus comes for, and those who He promises eternity and abundant life.

So really, trust Him. What do you have to lose?



Taking Back, and Laying It Down.

Dozens of faces and a monotone room. I count. One dozen, two dozen, three dozen, four... over 100 faces. Over 100 of God's children. Hurt. Broken. All looking to be redeemed.
The shirt staring me in the face says "Out of the darkness He has redeemed us." Those are the words of one survivor who has begun healing and found the promised love that only the Father provides. And that is the very love that embraced a room of stiff college students who stared anxiously about as they wondered who would be the first to stand up and share their story.
One breaks the ice. And a floodgate opens. As each individual walks cautiously to the mic, the Lord plays heavily on my already tender heart. Words. Emotions. Connection.

They each walk to the microphone as if there is a red flag on their back. Their burdens going up are like a newborn infant, desperate for care and nurturing, and in need of gentle hands. Burdens of guilt and shame, hurt and rejection. Some to the extreme. One girl who gave up her childhood at five. And carries the secret to this day. "I know her heart and her past. And when I see her at my feet, I will embrace her for her passion to live." One boy who let his best friend go alone, trusting another man. He later learned his best friend was nearly raped. "He isn't to blame, and his guilt is the reason I took up the cross." The teenager whose parents rejected her claim that her cousin had been raping her. She had an abortion at thirteen. "My child, who I believe. Her brokenness in Me is made whole. And that child is in My arms."

I know their pain because I have been there. I know the lowest of the low. But I also know that same redeeming love of a Father that one survivor claimed on a piece of cloth hanging behind the podium. It is the love that takes us from the lowest of the low to the highest of the high.

I, myself, stood before those faces, microphone inches from my lips, and hands clasped at my waist. Not fear, but rather the utmost desire for them to see the love of Jesus and the redeeming power of a Father who takes us from the pits of hell, no matter how far we've dug, "Six years of a lost childhood, and almost two years of a numb recovery. When I went away to college, the one person who shed a tear was my stepfather. And I just wanted to be angry for all that he stole. But I can honestly say that I come home to visit now, and I love the man my stepfather is. I can say thank you and truly walk in forgiveness. Because he broke the little girl that I once was. But my Father put the woman that I am back together."

Sitting unsettled back in my seat, I felt the Spirit drop around me. Freedom that allowed numerous others with no intentions of sharing a story that they had withheld until that moment, to literally jump from their seats and approach the microphone. Tears were shed and many reclaimed what was truly theirs. Testimonies of drugs, alcohol, eating disorders, and self harm... all left at the foot of the stage. As they stepped away, burdens put down, I saw the altar, and all of the symbolic pieces of our brokenness laid before the Lord's feet. White sheets covered it all. Dead as the past, He welcomes us to come alive anew.
All I could feel was that God wanted to move in that room. His love was abounding, and the community that He had fostered there was one that no human could break. As many reclaimed what was theirs, I laid what I reclaimed back at the foot of the cross. Because it was not by my own strength that I put myself back together. And it was not truly my story to be telling, but His to be glorified because He is present in the darkness as much as He is in the light. And when girls hugged me outside afterwards, I could only look at the clear black sky and thank Jesus for His blood and His sacrifice. Because my pain is nowhere near the pain He endured for me.



The message was hope. To hope in a Father who is ALWAYS present, and who had hope put in you, that you would live to fulfill His image. He's there in the best friend who calls to pray with you late at night. He's in the timely text message. He's in the child's face that you pass in the mall when you feel like sin has overcome your innocence and purity. He is every I love you.
Because if there is one thing I learned the other night it is that you don't have to be a Christian to see Him. The love, grace, mercy, and hands of God are always present, you just have to seek Him.