Repurposed

God does some pretty crazy things. He made a childless man the father of nations; and He made a man who had never seen rain the first boatbuilder. He made a slave the ruler of Egypt; and He made a stutterer his mouthpiece. He made a prostitute the heroine; and He made a shepherd the king. He made a Jewess the queen of Babylon; and He made a virgin the mother of his son. He made a backslidden fisherman the foundation of his church; and He made a persecutor of Christians the greatest missionary of all time. He is an expert at taking the most unlikely people, removing their labels, and repurposing them for the kingdom.

One year ago today, I was in desperate need of repurposing. I can still confidently say that this time last year was possibly the hardest season of my life. There were exterior circumstances surrounding me that were downright tough, and painful, and ugly, and dark. I was in the worst physical condition of my life, second only to the extreme complications I faced as a premature child; and I was slowly losing every person who I loved, leaving me feeling unwanted and unvalued. Those external conditions, however, were not nearly as serious as the problem my internal condition posed. One year ago today, I realized I no longer had any idea who I was. I didn't know that everything I believed about myself was simply a label I had collected along the way, so that was my definition. I didn't know that God was still interested in using me to do something big for his kingdom, so I was done dreaming. I didn't know healing was coming, so I cried myself to sleep every night. I didn't know restoration was just around the corner, so I accepted life would always be this way. I didn't know what I was passionate about, so I lost motivation. I had no idea what I was even doing here, so Jesus had to interrupt me and do some repurposing.

One year ago today, God woke me up in the morning and audibly asked me one really complicated yet beautifully simple question, "What have I created you for?" It was complicated because in that moment, I realized I had spent nearly two years not doing a single thing I was created for since I had lost sight of who I was. It was simple because I knew if I was willing to listen, he was willing to remind me. I went on a journey for the next few weeks in which no one could participate except myself and Jesus. I started dreaming again. I started having vision again. I started hearing again. I started breathing again. Jesus painted for me a picture of my life as he intended it to be, and I had never seen something so beautiful. There was a catch, though. None of what Jesus was speaking to me looked anything like the person I knew myself to be. He was saying "enough" and all I knew was "too much." He was saying "brave" and all I knew was "fearful." He was saying "strong" and all I knew was "weak." He was saying "choose hard" and all I knew was "stay comfortable."

I wonder if that's sort of how Abraham felt as God called the fatherless "father," or how Joseph felt as God whispered "leader" in the bottom of the pit. I wonder if Mary had a hard time hearing "pregnant" as a virgin, or if David cringed at "king" with the shepherd's staff in his hand.

I'm so thankful that Jesus has taken me on a journey of removing the labels I have scribbled in my own handwriting and replacing them with his purpose. I say journey, though, because I understand I am still walking down this road. I still wonder how the girl who just bawled watching The Good Dinosaur is going to handle loving foster kids and adopting children whose stories are full of hurt and pain. I still wonder how the girl who takes everything personally is going to deal with the rejection and relapse of the broken people she has been called to love. At the same time, I have hope as I realize that because of Jesus, the girl who was once so marked by fear and anxiety can now walk into some of the sketchiest places without any fear to share the Gospel. I have hope as I think about how Jesus allowed the 8-year-old germaphobe to grow up and hold the dirtiest hands and wash the dirtiest feet in the dirtiest places. 

I believe that He who started a good work in me will be faithful to see it unto its completion. I believe that He who created you and dreamt up your story before the foundation of the world will do the same for you. If you find yourself in a place of purposelessness, let me introduce you to my God of purpose. If you don't know who you are, let me introduce you to the God who made you with something specific in mind. If you have counted yourself out, count yourself back in, because Jesus is not done with you. That's the Gospel. You and I, we are broken people. We have a tendency to lose sight of our worth, to forget who we are, and to find things to replace the God who created us. But God is so gracious and so full of unfailing love. He was not content to leave us in our brokenness. Before we ever realized our need for a savior, He met that need. Nearly 2,000 years ago, God humbled himself and became a man. He lived a perfect life, something you and I could never do, which enabled him to bear the punishment of death for our imperfection. Jesus Christ allowed himself to be beaten, mocked, and hung on a cross so that you and I would never have to. But death was no match for his perfect love, and he proved it three days later when he walked out of the grave. Because of what Jesus did, you and I can know the Father. We can know who we are. We can have purpose. All he asks of us is total trust and complete surrender. Trust in what he did for us. Surrender of our plans. Surrender of our self-rule to make him Lord. It's a beautiful exchange, isn't it?

The Two Things I Don't Want to Talk About

If I had to pick something to relate my life to this past month, I would probably go with Walmart on Black Friday mixed with the Apple store the day of a new product release... Way too crowded, way too busy, and super disorganized, but also full of valuables. I feel a little slighted that no one adequately warned me about senior year of college, though I am not sure a warning would have been enough to prepare me, and I'm not sure senior year is the problem.

I have this totally made up scene in my mind that at the beginning of the year, Jesus sat down and thought to himself, "How can we teach her as much as possible in the shortest amount of time and still keep her alive?" Then he dreamt up the way these past few months have gone and called it a day. Like I said, totally made up, but it feels pretty accurate in my own mind. 

There is one lesson in this strange season that I have been wrestling with for well over a month now. I would love to pin it down, call the win, and move along never to think of it again, but I have a feeling the wrestling is a part of this process He is leading me through. This lesson is one I don't particularly enjoy discussing, and I am clearly procrastinating from announcing it to you all, but I have this nagging feeling that my transparency is also a part of this great process. 

I have never particularly enjoyed women's ministry. When people ask me why, I gladly respond that in my opinion, all women's ministry consists of is a bunch of women sitting around, complaining about their relationships, and crying about their self-esteem. The funny thing is I don't think I've ever actually seen a women's ministry program that was like that. That is simply a made up perception in my brain of what happens, and it sounds awful. I hate the idea of sitting around talking about relationships and discussing my self-esteem. In fact, I would rather do anything else in the whole world, because it makes me UNCOMFORTABLE. If there are two things in my life I have not mastered, they would be relationships and self-esteem, and no one likes to sit around and talk about things they aren't good at. At least my pride doesn't.

I have this little problem when it comes to relationships with others and my own self-esteem in that I tend to wrap the two together in a package and shake the box until they are so tangled together, they are inseparable unless someone pulls out the scissors. When a relationship frays, my self-esteem unravels. When my self-esteem is on the downhill slide, my relationships roll off the cliff. Recently, I have found myself desperately trying to force the two to work together, and it's been a total mess. The problem is that God never intended these two aspects of human life to be so dependent on one another. My ability to love and serve others well should not come from a place of self-focus, self-criticism, or selfish ambition. My confidence in who I am and who I was created to be should not come from man, others' opinions, or the amount of times someone compliments me throughout the day. Until I can successfully detach my relationships from my self-worth, neither of those aspects of my life are going to thrive.

Like everything else in life, this feels much easier said than done. I'm a huge words of affirmation person. It's definitely tied as my top love language, and has possibly even surpassed quality time in this season of life. I STRUGGLE to rely totally on the affirmation of the Lord in my life and not feed off of the encouragement and affirmation of others. I am not saying that the affirmation of others is a bad thing. I fully believe God gives us our love languages and that they are good things. However, the affirmation I receive from the Lord cannot continue to seem less significant to me than a compliment about my outfit or my hair. I also struggle not to let my self-perception be the driving force behind my relationships. I have this ugly false humility that comes in every now and again that says, "I'm too much of a burden to be friends with this person." or "This person deserves to spend time with someone far better and more encouraging than me." I start to see myself as less-than, so I act less-than, and then it really isn't all that fun to be around me anymore. But I did it to myself.

Like I said before, this whole concept is still a work in process for me. I don't get to end this post with "and then I figured it all out and now I'm awesome at relationships and have perfect self-esteem." It's not true. BUT, I do know that truth is truth no matter how I feel or even how I act. The truth is that God created relationships to honor to him and to spur one another toward him. The truth is that every person has something to offer others, especially when the Spirit of God is alive on the inside of them. The truth is that regardless of how I feel about myself on any given day, Jesus not only took the time to sit down and sketch my life, but he also gave his in exchange for mine. Regardless of how people do or don't feel about me, the Lord considered me significant. 

I'm still wrestling with these truths. My head gets them, but my heart needs convincing. My game plan is to keep waking up in the morning and preaching the Gospel to this little rebel heart. To keep speaking truth until it clicks and settles and resonates. I think I'm getting closer.

No Fear In Love

Much-Afraid shrank back. "I am afraid," she said. "I have been told that if you love someone you give them the power to hurt and pain you in a way nothing else can."

"That is true," agreed the Shepherd. "To love does mean to put yourself in to the power of the loved one and to become very vulnerable to pain, and you are very Much-Afraid of pain, are you not?"

She nodded miserably and then said shamefacedly, "Yes, very much afraid of it."

"But it is so happy to love," said the Shepherd quietly. "It is happy to love even if you are not loved in return. There is pain, too, certainly, but Love does not think that very significant." 

-Hinds Feet on High Places

There is something we all learned as a child without anyone having to teach us. I learned this lesson, personally, from a bad experience jumping on the bed. I was in my parents room one day when my dad walked in to find me bouncing around on the center of their mattress. "Don't jump on the bed, Lex," he said. I remember giggling at his caution as I unknowingly edged closer to the head board. "Lex, don't jump on the bed." Another laugh escaped my mouth. "Lex..." Then it happened: boing, boing, thud. I tripped, of course, and landed head first right on the edge of the wooden table at the head of their bed. Laughter turned into tears in the same way that gash has turned into a permanent scar in the middle of my forehead. I said to myself as I exited their bedroom that morning, "I'm NEVER jumping on that bed again." I made a promise to myself that I would never do something that had caused me pain. It was an inner vow that I believed would protect me from my bad experience. A vow never to jump on the bed again doesn't seem too dangerous. The other inner vows we have learned to make, however, are a problem.

More times than not, I have been wounded by people that I loved deeply. It happens to all of us. Just like Much-Afraid in Hannah Hurnard's Hinds Feet on High Places, we recognize that love gives someone else the power to hurt and pain us in a way nothing else can. After multiple times of being burned by those we loved, we face the temptation to say, "I'm NEVER doing that again." So the next time we have the opportunity to love, we shrink back in fear of that love being unreciprocated. The thing about true love, however, is that it "does not think that [pain] very significant." This is a hard statement for me to swallow sometimes. As a human being, and probably more so as a young female, I count the threat of emotional pain very significant. I don't want to get hurt, but then again, who really does? I feel Jesus telling me to love without restraint, but something inside of me cringes and says, "Please don't do this to me again, Alexis." I ultimately have a choice between love and self-preservation.

Many times when I tell people what I want to do with my life their first response is literally, "I hope you're prepared to get burnt." First of all, that's not exactly the encouragement I was hoping for. Second of all, I know they're right. I know that because of what God has called me to do and who he has called me to do it for, I am going to live a life in which the people I sacrifice everything for walk out on me. I know that out of all those I pray for daily, some of them are going to reject my love. I know that some of the families I take in, and some of the children I help raise, are never going to say thank you. Some are going to turn their backs on me. It is human nature. Hurt people hurt people and God has called me for hurt people. So what am I going to do? Am I going to sit at home all day and read self-help books between inspirational Lifetime movies? I could. It would sure be a lot less risky.

But I won't. Tonight, in a barn in the middle of nowhere in Oklahoma, I remembered something that I seemed to have forgotten. I have the only love that I will ever need. I have the love that keeps coming even when I'm the one who isn't reciprocating it. I have the love who did not consider pain very significant at all. If every day of my life I love without being loved in return, if everyday I wake up and am pained by those I fight for, I still find myself wrapped up in a love that is far greater and able to make up for all the other lost loves. There is a security I seem to have forgotten that comes from being found in the arms of a loving Father. I have made a few inner vows in my own attempt for security, but I don't need them anymore. I have forgotten the way God has healed my broken heart more than once, but I can remember it clearly now.

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out all fear.

(Don't) Take Some Initiative

A major component of growing up is learning to take initiative. Kids complain to their moms that they're starving to death only to hear their mom reply, "Then get up and get something to eat." Athletes complain to their coach that they want more playing time only to hear their coach say, "Then get yourself to practice early and show me you deserve it." In the world, successful people are defined as those who see what they want and do whatever it takes to get it, regardless of the cost to themselves and those around them.

In my own life, I have seen my desire to take initiative, to make things happen, slowly creep into my walk with Christ. When I see a situation that I feel needs to change, I pray about it, wait 5 seconds, and then jump in to see how I can best alter my circumstances. When I feel that God needs to step in somewhere, I pray about it, give it a minute, and then jump in to give him a hand. I fear that God is not going to take initiative so I choose not to wait on him.

The strange thing is that any time God has ever done anything for man, he took the initiative. I didn't think at the foundation of time, "Hey. You know what you should do Lord? You should create the world and everything in it." I didn't blow the whistle 2,000 years ago and ask him to send his son to come and save mankind. I didn't ask him to find me almost 18 years ago and invite me into relationship with him. He did that. While I was still weak, Christ died for the ungodly. While I was still a slave to fear and sin, Jesus made a way for me to be free. Sometimes I look at my life and I think, "How are you going to work this out Lord? How are you going to get me from where I am today to where I need to be tomorrow?" When I don't see clearly how God is going to move things around on my behalf, I panic and start moving myself around. I forget that he will take the initiative. When I see someone I care about in a place I think they should move on from, I move in to move them. I forget that God knows how to take initiative.

The really, really scary thing about my not-so-little self-initiative problem is that it is a control problem. It's an idolatry problem. I am actually taking Jesus off the throne of my heart, telling him he is not big enough or wise enough or good enough, and taking a seat somewhere that belongs to him. Psalm 127 says, "Unless the Lord builds the house, the builder builds in vain. Unless the Lord watches over the city, the watchman stays awake in vain. It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives his beloved sleep." My controlling is in vain. Whatever I build is in vain if it is the work of my own hands. Whatever I guard so vigilantly is not safe if it is under my protection and not the Lord's. Whatever I try so hard to keep is exactly what I am sure to lose if it has not been given me by God. 

So I ask, Lord, what do I do now? And he responds in all of his love, "Nothing."

Let's Get You Home

This morning in class, a professor asked me something no one ever has before. I've been asked many times about my dreams, visions, and passions and I have gladly spilled each time as much information as was appropriate for the moment. In this past season, God has been doing a new thing in my heart, and the mission and vision for my life has been more deeply and intricately developed than ever before. I have been able to more easily define what I have been created for and who my heart yearns for, and recently put on paper for the first time a rough draft of the ministry the Lord has implanted in my heart. My professor didn't ask me about any of this, though. He didn't want to know my vision, or my game plan, or my life goals after this final year of college. My professor simply asked, "What is your personal philosophy for ministry?"

We went around the room one student at a time as each person shared their own personal philosophy for ministry. It was such a beautiful thing to see the tender hearts of my peers and to dream of everything God has for each one of them in future seasons. Some discussed a philosophy of servanthood, others a philosophy of evangelism, and others a philosophy of obedience. Then came my turn. I introduced myself to the professor, told him my major, where I was from, and that this was my senior year here at Oral Roberts University. I had been thinking for the past 30 minutes while others students were speaking about how I would answer this foreign question when my turn finally came. There only seemed to be one appropriate answer for me.

My philosophy for ministry is to take people by the hand and show them the way back home.

So many times people wake up one day and realize that they are a million miles from home. How they got there, they couldn't tell you. How to get back, they have no clue. Like the story of the prodigal son in Luke 15, they have found themselves miles away from their father, empty-handed, yearning to be anywhere but the place they have fallen. They want to know what it would feel like to sit down for dinner with their family, laughing and delighting in their father, but which way is it to their father's house? If they ever found it, would He let them in? The reality is that they are not going to find their way home on their own. They need someone to intersect their life and say, "Let's get you home. I know the way." We can't make the journey for them- it must be their decision- but we can make the journey with them.

The thing about accompanying someone on their journey home is that sometimes it can get messy. Those whose hands we hold have the tendency to hurt us, to kick up dirt that will soil our clothes, to wander in circles and get distracted when all we want to do is take them the straight shot back home. The journey takes time. What we think should be a two-night excursion can turn into weeks or months or years of venturing. As people are being restored and healed and brought back to health, a process takes place that has no determined time frame. It isn't easy, and though it is full of joy, it isn't always fun.

The reward, however, comes as our new friend rounds the corner and sees the Father standing at the door looking into the distance awaiting his arrival. He sees his Father take off running not away from him, but toward him, coming to embrace him. His Father takes him into the house and throws him a party to celebrate his arrival. His son that was lost is now found, and we got to be a small part of that journey. What greater privilege do we have as sons and daughters of the Father than to be sent by our dad to take the hand of our little brothers and sisters and lead them home?

Just Medium

It always surprises me when people ask me why I haven't blogged in a while; partially because I forget real people even read the things I write, but also because if they do read them, I rarely expect them to be watching for anything new. When someone asks me when they can expect a new post, I usually reply with, "I guess whenever something happens and I have something good to write about."

I realize that a majority of my posts are about big moments in my life that God is using at the time to teach me, mold me, or transition me into the next season. I have written about my trials, dreams, illnesses, victories, season changes and other life-transforming events and occasions that have stuck with me over time. Rarely, however, have I written about the in-between times. Rarely have I taken the time to put my fingers to work and write about the things in my life that are just medium.

No one really likes medium if we were being honest with ourselves. We want our coffee hot or cold; medium gets sent back. We want our adventures to be grand and worth telling about; medium gets tucked away in an old scrapbook and quickly forgotten. We want our days to be full and exciting; medium makes us ponder the possibility of a change in career choice. We want people to think we are extraordinary; medium people are rarely remembered.

Medium doesn't get much credit because medium isn' t marked by those grand moments that we live for, it's just full of all the moments in-between that we don't really take notice of but that make up who we are.

Sitting here, writing this post, I am in a season of mediums. I have to admit: with my personality being the way it is, I am just not good at it. I thrive off of challenges that arise and great adventures that come my way. I love to cling to Jesus in my crisis and run with him on the mountaintop experiences in my life. I'm really bad, however, at excelling with him on medium days. I too easily forget my dependence on him. I too easily neglect celebrating what he is doing around me. I too easily lose my motivation that should be a deep love for him. I too easily allow how I am feeling (or not feeling) determine my drive. The problem with not excelling at medium is that medium makes up a solid 95% of our lives. 95% of the time, things aren't going exceedingly poorly or exceedingly well; they're simply going.

Though my day to day life may be medium in this season, I don't ever want a medium walk with Jesus. I don't want to kick back and put my feet up because I'm not engaged in a crisis or on a vacation in the mountains somewhere. I want my medium to be extraordinary when it comes to living a life fully engaged in whatever it is that God is doing in the world around me. I may wake up and do life as normal and go to sleep without encountering a single thing out of the ordinary, but would those 24 hours be spent giving everything I have to Jesus. Would those 24 hours be full of conversation with my savior and a heart that overflows with joy simply because I am pondering the greatness of who my God is.

Reading this right now, there is a 95% chance that you're having a medium day. Maybe you're in a medium season, too, and you have that stuck with no where to go feeling. Please, dear friend, do not allow that to determine the quality of your relationship with Christ and your engagement in what he has set before you to do. There is too much to be done in our homes, and our communities, and our world for us to let entire days slip by and be marked off as "medium" because we chose to take a seat on the bench until the next big thing comes along. The next big thing is here in this moment and it is the opportunity to step into what God has planned for your life TODAY. To team up with the Holy Spirit and be the hands and feet and mouthpiece of Jesus to every person you come in contact with. To take the position of an intercessor and go to war for the world around you even if you never see a single thing transpire with your eyes. Medium is awesome when medium is done with Jesus.

Happy New Year!

While the rest of the world counts down the days until January 1st to celebrate new beginnings and fresh starts, every college student counts down the days until their last final of the year. As excited as I was to see that ball drop four months ago and to celebrate with my family and friends, I am ten times more excited to see my dorm room in boxes and campus slowly emptying itself of students. All day I have been scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed to see countless friends posting statuses including "#summer" or "#graduation"-- the college equivalent of our junior high yearbook tagline: "HAGS." If you don't know what I'm referring to, you obviously weren't a 90's kid.

I walked out of my last final today with the hugest feeling of relief I have ever had. This year has possibly been one of the most stretching of my life. As I made my way back to the dorm, I couldn't help but laugh as I thought about who and where I am today compared to who and where I was in August. I also couldn't help but think about who I have learned that Jesus is compared to who I thought he was nine months ago. It is a funny moment when you sit back and notice for the first time what Jesus has done in a certain season, and then compare it to what you expected him to do. Rarely ever do our expectations look anything like his reality.

In a lot of ways, this past year served as a fiery furnace, incinerating everything on the inside of me in the best and worst ways possible. Between the first of August and this moment here and now, I have battled one of the most annoying, persistent physical ailments I have experienced in my life. Between the first of August and now, almost every single relationship in my life has changed entirely. Between the first of August and now, I watched my friends enter new seasons apart from me, and welcomed new friends into my season that I never expected. Between the first of August and now, my heart has been gripped by the understanding of what I was created for in the most painful way possible. Between the first of August and now, I have watched too many people walk away from Jesus, but so many people run towards him. Between the first of August and now, I have experienced Jesus like I never knew him before.

I am grateful for the days that ended in tears, because Jesus met me there. I am grateful for the days that lasted long into the night, because that's where I heard him speak. I am grateful for the days where laughter made it impossible to breathe, because Jesus poured out joy like only he can do. I am grateful for every failure, because I learned that his grace is sufficient in my weakness. I am grateful for every victory, because I saw the hand of my savior.

It's weird walking into a new season and realizing that everything is different on the inside of me though my surroundings will look the same. It's strange not to be worried about what is next for the first time in my life because I finally have an understanding that Jesus is big enough to take care of my tomorrow. It's fun to be excited about the small things I have gotten a glimpse of on the horizon. It's beautiful to be free from bondage to people and enslaved to the call of Christ on my life. I kind of feel like walking out of this coffee shop and shouting "Happy New Year!" as I pass the strangers on the street. Oh that everyone would know the beauty of walking into new seasons with Jesus.

Believe it or not, I didn't just write this post to verbally process what's going on in my heart, though I am grateful for the opportunity to do so. I wrote this post because I know there are other people who need a New Year four months into this one. The good news is that there is no such thing as a season that lasts forever. If you feel as though you are passing through the fire, take heart because the fires don't last for forever. If you feel as though you are walking through the valley, be of good cheer because there's someone who would gladly take that walk with you. Embrace the incinerator because after the refining comes the new season. Your surroundings may not change, but the season of your heart has the potential to change in any moment. Seek him with all you've got friends. Life is a beautiful thing even in the muddiest moments.

Disconnected

While I was home over Spring Break, I had the opportunity to grab coffee with one of my oldest friends. It was so refreshing to sit and talk about what the Lord is doing here in these seasons of our lives, to reflect on where we have been, and to dream about where we are going. As my friend caught me up on everything going on back home, one thing she told me really caught my attention. On Wednesday nights, our staff and volunteers have been doing Youth Alpha with our high school students. Youth Alpha is designed to spark questions and create discussion among the students about the core beliefs of Christianity. As my two friends sat down leading their group of high school sophomores, one student spoke up and said something like this, "God is like the wifi. I want to know him, but I don't have the password." What a profound statement out of the mouth of this fifteen year old kid.

What he was articulating in that moment, maybe more clearly that any other student I have ever heard, was the disconnect he was feeling between himself and his creator. He wasn't struggling with the idea of God, he wasn't battling to accept the existence of God, he was losing the fight to find himself connected with God. This is the reality for every person who has never accepted Jesus Christ as their savior. They may believe in God, they may know he's real and want to see what he is doing, but they don't have the access required to be a part of it. We've all sat in coffee shops or friends' living rooms and tried unsuccessfully to guess the password to the highly coveted, free wifi. Very rarely have I been successful in doing so. People riddle their passwords with capital letters and numbers of seemingly no significance making it impossible for me to know what it is without getting up and asking. God didn't complicate things, though. He didn't create some long, impossible to remember password, and he doesn't keep it hidden where his houseguests can't find it. He simply humbled himself, became a man, took my place on the cross, and overcame death so that I could type in "Jesus" next to "password" and have access to the Father.

We don't have to live disconnected. If I'm honest, though, somedays I feel like my connection is pretty slow. Some days, I go into my network preferences and start typing in alternative passwords. I try things like "personal achievements" or "relationships" or "self-gratification" or "good intentions" and then I find myself in the middle of weeks like this one and it feels like I'm back on dial-up. You remember those days, right? Only one person can use the internet at a time, if I'm on the internet then you can't use the phone, it takes a solid 5 minutes to even get onto your home page, and good luck googling anything really quick because it just isn't going to happen. I get frustrated and want to throw my laptop across the floor, but the whole thing could be solved if I would just stop trying to fix what isn't broken. I get frustrated and want to lie down and give up, but the whole thing could be solved if I would just stop trying to substitute things for Jesus.

Forget Me Not

I love reading the heart of King David poured out on the pages of Psalms. There is something significant that happens on the inside of me as I read and see the reflections of a man who was able to articulate so rawly how I am feeling, yet still be called a man after God's own heart. One of his songs in particular has resonated so deeply within me as I walk through this new season of transition in my life.

"As a deer pants for flowing streams, so my soul pants for you O God. My soul THIRSTS for God, for the living God. When shall I come and see his face? My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all day long, 'Where is your God?' These things I remember as I pour out my soul: how I would go with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God with glad shouts and songs of praise, a multitude keeping festival. Why are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you in turmoil within me? Hope in God for I shall again praise him, my salvation and my God. My soul is cast down within me; therefore I remember you from the land of Jordan and of Hermon, from Mount Mizar."

As I read this passage out of Psalm 42 this morning and the emphasized words above jumped off the page, the Lord spoke something to me so clearly. "I can lift your soul and still your heart if you will just remember me. When did you stop thirsting?" Knife. To. The. Heart. My first reaction was to defend myself with, "Excuse me, Jesus? Yeah, hey, real quick question... what exactly do you mean by remember you? Also, I'm pretty sure I am DYING of dehydration over here I'm so thirsty. Did you not read my last blog post?"

Realizing that probably wasn't the best approach, I stopped for a moment to gaze with him into my own heart. Typical Jesus, he had a point. I suffer from severe spiritual amnesia sometimes. I find myself in the middle of the rushing river of life and it's trials, and my first reaction is to fix my eyes on the tide. My heart quickly wearies from the striving as I tread water attempting to stay afloat. I forget the rivers that he dried up before my eyes and the waters that he parted so that I could walk across on dry ground. If I could just stop for a moment and remember his faithfulness, his steadfastness, and his consistency, my heart would not tire. Here is Jesus saying "Alexis, forget me not in the middle of your battles."

In addition to the amnesia that creeps in in the midst of my battles, I also tend to suffer from memory loss in the middle of the mundane. There are days that I complete and feel really great about, days I complete and feel really determined never to repeat, and then there are days that I complete and I feel absolutely nothing. There was no thirst. My soul was not in want for the face of God. Perhaps I didn't experience a great enough accomplishment that I felt I owed credit where credit was due (Jesus forgive me when I forget EVERY good thing comes from you), or perhaps I didn't experience a great enough challenge that that I felt I needed to ask for help (Dad teach me to rely on you for my very being). Here is Jesus saying "Alexis, forget me not in the middle of the mundane."

Can you say "heart check?" I had a major one this morning. So many times we forget to place the Lord ever before our eyes. We fill ourselves to overflowing with all the wrong things until there is no thirst left in us. The only possible solution is to imitate David as he spoke to his soul, prodding it to replace its hope in God. The only possible solution is to remind ourselves of the faithfulness of God in and out of season. The only possible solution is to remove every other cup as far away as possible until we thirst only for the living God. Lord, I remember you. My soul longs to see your face.

Privilege in Pain, Glory in Dying

I can almost guarantee that you have never considered something as undesirable as pain to be a privilege. I had not ever considered it, either, until I progressed out of a season of pain into a season of painful silence. In my season of pain, I felt compelled into the presence of Jesus. In my season of pain, I felt a sense of life and security. In my pain I found purpose, and drive, and motivation, and will power. Here in this season, I find stillness. Here in this season, I find feelings of intense disconnect. Here in this season, I find myself in the dying, and it is extremely uncomfortable yet unexpectedly beautiful in the most indescribable way. Naturally, I am going to try and write a blog about the most unexplainable thing I have ever encountered.

In some respects, the past month of my life has been the most uncomfortable thing I have ever encountered. I wake up in the morning and struggle in vain to find some kind of normal. My rogue heart strives to find just one thing besides the Lord that is consistent to cling to as if he were not enough. I sit down at the end of the day to process my thoughts and consider where I am, and I come up totally empty-handed, unable to pinpoint what the Lord is doing in my life. I feel as though I am floating through my days and weeks, collecting scratches as I bump up against the rough edges of unfamiliar environments and try to squeeze into places that were not meant for me.

What is happening, Jesus?

At the same time, I am realizing like never before exactly what I was made for. I am realizing what my heart burns for. I am starting to see a glimpse of what Jesus had in mind as he sat down to craft me, and opportunities have been unfolding more rapidly than I could have ever imagined for me to carry out what I was built for. Even at the end of those days when I feel most alive, however, there is  a wrestling on the inside of me that stops me in my tracks. When I am doing what I most love, whether it be loving teenagers or holding the hands of the homeless or lying on the floor of my room in worship, I can feel an opposing force rising up on the inside of me and war being waged in the depths of my being.

What is this, Lord? 

Turns out, this is the dying. This is my flesh being put to death. I can honestly say I have never been in this place before. I have never passed through a season of life quite like this where the Lord asked for my hand and then walked beside me in near silence concerning my own heart. He is being so intentional in every minute of this season, and I am seeing almost none of it as it transpires. I know he is working because I feel the shift, the struggle, the battle taking place. I see his purpose in it all. I understand that I cannot live my life if there is any of me left to live it. I find glory in the dying because he considered me, and now calls me higher. He is taking me to a place where I no longer live, where nothing of Alexis remains. He is gutting this space and creating a meeting room to conduct his business, and I am losing who I am in the process in the best way possible.

No one serves so faithfully as a dead man resurrected, for he has nothing standing in his way.