a s t o u n d e d

My friend Katie taught me a little something about being vulnerable today. So here I go. Here's how Jesus took over today, and here's how he so gracefully broke apart my heart. 

"You'll just know in your heart when you're ready," the doctor said, looking me in the eyes, as my pathetic little x-rays sat behind him, mocking me. 

Dr. Haid was talking about future surgery, but I think that Jesus put those words in my mind for another hour, for another situation, and for another mindset. 

Those words sprang into my mind on this cold day like warmth pouring into my heart. On the day that would've been the anniversary of me dating a boy for four years, the day that I couldn't sit still in English because my back decided that today it didn't want to give me a break. The day that might've had a few too many birthday cake Oreos in it, and maybe a few too many tears. 

In my deepest wound I saw Your glory and it astounded me. 

God has taught me a lot about showing up, about repairs, and about contentment. He took everything away, put me in both a physical and a mental state of desperation and need, and delicately placed me in just the right position, so that no matter which way I turned or tried to run, He was there with opening His arms. Knowing full and well that all I wanted was to fall into them. 

I think that that's kind of what my life is looking like right now. Frantically looking around, wondering where I can run: where I can run away from my sin, from the cortisone shots, and from the brokenness that is my heart. 

But just when I start to take my first step, I feel that longing in my heart that only a divine embrace can satisfy. 

And that's when I realized it. 

That despite the crap that is sin in my life right now, He makes me new. 

He makes me new so that I can clumsily fall into those steady arms every morning of my life. He makes it so that He pieces my weak heart back together a little more every time I fall. He makes it so that no matter how strong I continue to get, I need Him a little more than I did my last tumble. 

He makes it so that I am continually astounded, by the radiant love that He continually shows me through Young Life leaders, sunflowers, and a flowered notebook. 

And man, am I thankful for that. For the snips of joy that Jesus lets me catch glimpses of that make me long for more, for the fact that He hasn't let me snuggle up in my own sorrow. For the fact that I've been able to see Him so clearly through this awful season, and for the fact that I have people in my life that are willing to say:

"This journey sucks, but I'm here. I don't know where we're going, Lin, but we're going together towards the direction that He calls us." 

Here's to knowing full and well in my heart that I am ready, ready for You, Lord. Well said, doc. 

You are good, Lord. And I will scream that from mountain tops as long as I live, and as long as You live in me. 

the middle season

Let me tell you about the season in between. The one between the good and the bad, the broken and the whole. The one where we stubbornly fix our eyes on the light that we promise ourselves is at the end of the tunnel, at the end of the darkness that we keep marching through. The season that's right in the middle. 

That's why I'm here to chant and to scream and to yell to take your eyes away from the light. To keep holding on to it, tightly, but let your eyes wander and look at your current location, right in the middle of the dark. To fix your eyes upon your brokenness, and to let yourself be fully aware. To be fully aware, so that when God brings you slowly but surely to that light, day by day, you can be fully aware of your movement and your journey.

I think I would call my life right now a middle season, as I sit here with my messy bun and glasses and pj pants that are 3 sizes too big and my brother's old Young Life tshirt. I'm in between the yearning for the light and nothing but that, but also I'm learning embracing my brokenness (learning is bolded because I don't have a clue what I'm doing, lol). I'm waiting waiting waiting, for chaos and for calm and for the storm and for prosperity. But I'm trying to look at where I am and learn the full extent of this situation, so that this pain isn't for nothing. If I'm going to do this middle season, I'm going to do it right. 

So here we are, friends. In a season where my patience is being tested and i feel like I'm on a scavenger hunt for grace. But for something I know is gonna be better than anything I could think up in my head. Here we are, embracing this brokenness and weakness so that we can one day appreciate the goodness of being whole, and that we can learn what it's like to cling to the most peaceful and loving guy in this world. Jesus, you're crazy and I don't know where we're going because it's so. dark. 

But maybe that's why you brought me here: so that you could gain my trust by leading me to the light, one foot in front of the other. 

That was way confusing, but what else is new. If you don't get anything else from this jumble of words, I hope you know that the light that is at the end of the tunnel is a real thing and we can cling oh so tightly to it. But I hope you don't ignore your pain, so that you can see the glorious things that come out of it. 

-Lin 

one foot in front of the other

All this pain, I wonder if I'll ever find my way. I wonder if my life could really change at all.

I'm not used to typing these words. Words with depth and brokenness, and a story that isn't finished yet. This season is hard; the hardest thing I've ever done. But these lyrics and this song put both the pain of my heart and the pain of my body into perspective. This song was playing when I walked up in front of too many adults and held up a piece of cardboard on it that told about my specific sin and brokenness. I listened to this song as I cried to my best friend about heart break. I'm listening to this song now, as I tell you about how He makes beautiful things out of dust. 

I'm no more than dust right now, longing to be something that comes from His gentle and knowing hands. Longing to be loved. Longing to be whole, and longing to see the end of this season so that I can see what I've been fighting for. The hard days have made me question whether I was so sure about this, about this love, about this Father. I was gently cautious, like the guy's voice in the beginning of Beautiful Things. But as I continue, I'm sure. I'm content. I'm all set, just like he is when he screams about how beautiful the things are that God chooses to make out of us. I'm choosing, morning by morning, day by day, and piece by piece, to see that truth. To see the love in the midst of the doctors and the x rays, and between the tears and the cookie dough. 

God, I'm broken. I'm so freaking broken I don't even know how to put it into words that you can understand, my friend. But this life is something worth celebratingC and something worth living fully, and that's why I'm choosing to put one foot in front of the other and continue on the beloved journey that God gave us the ability to walk. 

Im whispering your name, Jesus, day by day, and I'm praying that you hold me close. Thank you for not letting me down, and for showing me a thousand words of love through so many little things. 

This is all over the place. But my heart is all over the place, and I promised to be real to you no matter what. It's celebratin and it's weeping and it's looking up at the sky and asking for grace and for more. More of You and more of Your goodness. 

Father, let my heart be after You.

I love you all. Galatians 21:6. 

an October nights prayer

I opened my blue book and it turned to a chapter called Space. I was pretty close to continuing on my way and flipping through this marvelous book until I found something that's applicable to what's actually going on in my life right now. But God planted His feet firmly and let me soak in words: words of peace and growth; words that said it was okay to sit. It's okay to do all the things that I said made me restless in my last blog. It's okay to create and find yourself and not be productive for a little while. It's okay. 

Father, don't leave me. Don't leave me when my life is filled with physical pain and mental restlessness. Give me contentness in the space that you have given me to expand and to learn and to rest, let me love it, every minute of it. Let me stop pushing away the gift that you gave me, let me stop trying to pay what I owe. Father thank you for showing me that I can't do it, I can't pay back something so enormous. Let me except what you've given me: life and freedom and joy. Give me a new perspective of You: one that lets me see You as not a lover of rules, but as a lover of me. Thank you for being my Beloved, and thank you for loving me so crazily and genuinely. I don't know how You do it, but man do I want to learn. Help me love, help me love You. Because I don't know how to love flawed people on my own, so I don't have a clue how to love my perfect Father in the way that He deserves. Lord, take away my desire to please people and help me fix my eyes on Y O U. 

Friends, I'm learning and loving that life is more than 7 hours of school followed by hours of homework and a perfect nights sleep. Life is abundant and full and meant for messy love that's so genuine it doesn't even make sense. 

And I'm so thankful that I get to learn about it. Thank you Father, for giving me more. You're crazy and you're awesome and I love you so much.

God bless you friends, because half of these words probably don't make much sense. But I hope that you get my point, the point that we get to find in this life. The day I start writing perfectly will be the day I have my crap together, and I'm pretty sure that won't be happening. I'm a mess. But I'm so loved and so thankful for it. 

Thanks for hanging on. -Lin 

A good Father

Before I start with this, I just want to admit that I don't know where this is going. Jesus tugged at my heart at a random time and faintly whispered, "let me write." 

Let's do this thang, Jesus. 

I haven't really felt a purpose lately.

God has let me fall, fall, fall, but He hasn't let me land on my face (hallelujah). But this morning, I was thinking about how I would rather be dusting myself off from that nasty tumble than sitting here right now. Just sitting. Just chilling. 

Just. Sitting. 

But The Lord (at another random time) said nope, this isn't how we're gonna do this one. WE. Him and me, me and Him. He said "I'm not gonna let you sit here. You have a purpose. But you have to let me show you." 

It sounds so simple. He tells me to sit back and relax, while He does the dirty work for me so that I'm comfortable and joyful. But it's been so hard for me. It's been hard to physically sit back (stupid back) and it's hard to let the most incredible love I know do something for me. To realize that this relationship between God and me isn't one-sided: He gets to serve me too. How freaking cool is that? 

I've been obsessed with this song that we sang at a Young Life camp a few weeks ago. It's called "Good Good Father": 

Oh well I've heard a thousand stories of what they think you're like

But I've heard the tender whisper of love in the dead of night

You tell me that you're pleased with me and that I'm never alone 

You're a good good Father

It's who You are

It's who You are

And I'm l o v e d by you

Thank you Jesus for being proud of me. Thank you for showing me that I am enough, even when I chant to myself that I'm nowhere close. Thanks for smiling at the chance of being able to catch me when I mess things up. Thanks for the grace that I get to see at my locker at school and in quiet moments in the car and in peaceful quiet times when the world isn't quite awake just yet. Thanks for holding me close, stroking my hand, and whispering how I'm your Beloved, no matter what. I don't warm myself with your love enough, Jesus. But man is it great. 

I've been focusing on the pain I feel instead of focusing on joy. And joy is such a better perspective. 

If you want prayers, text or DM or Facebook or call or whatever you want to reach me, whether it's for a test or for grace or for a friend or for you. Or if you just want to talk, I'd love that too. We're in this together, friends, and we weren't meant to do life alone. I'm here. 

Here's to letting myself be pulled from this chair and from this back brace into something beautiful. Here's to standing up and doing, to loving and living. Lord, you're such a good Father. Thanks for chasing me. 

-Lin 

He Shouted Love

This week has been good. But today was better. 

My mouth fell open a little more each time I saw the light. The light that fell through the trees so gracefully, the light that I saw in my friends, and the way my church radiated light this morning. At the end of the day, my jaw is happily resting at my feet. 

I've thought a lot about grace lately. I'm not trying to preach to you. Just trying to share what's been on my heart lately. 

I've realized how fragile grace is. But yet, how strong it has to be. How the grace that Jesus gave us through his beautiful wooden cross was so fragile, but so strong as it kept him up there, gasping for breath, yelling my name. Grace and so many other things are what kept him up on that torture device. His passion for us, His hope that we would be able to live in love, pursued by His grace. All because of a cross. 

My friend Abby that I met at Rockbridge (a Young Life camp) sent me a letter. And on the mouth of the envelope, she had written "He shouted love". It wasn't beautiful simply because of her incredible handwriting, it was beautiful because it was real. It wasn't a bitterly sweet worship song  that I hear on some Christian station too often. Some of the songs, though soft, pretty, and graceful, don't seem real to me. But these words did. I saw Jesus' cry through those words, I saw his pain. I saw his beautiful mouth, opened so wide, as He asked God for mercy on that dreary and beautiful day that the most selfless thing was ever done. I saw him. So joyfully reaching for me. 

But isn't that what he did? Shout love? Shout love as he saw the potential of our life? Shout love as he saw us transform, from seeing us yelling "crucify him! Crucify him!" to watching us getting on our knees, tears in our eyes, singing so the most beautiful praise? Seeing us able to finally see his light, and not only enjoying it, but longing for it? 

That's where I've been lately. Longing for love, trying my hand at grace. Looking for little things and for big things, trying to find new ways to love old friends and old, worn, and lovely ways to love new friends. I've tried to notice the way people treat me. I've tried to notice my moms body as she pulls me in for hugs that I don't get tired of, I've tried to watch the way my boyfriend rubs my back during painful times and holds my hand when there's too much joy to contain by yourself. I've watched my best friends folded hands rest on the worn tables of coffee shops as we pray for each other. I've tried to watch my dads feet as he comes home from work each day, so that we can have adventures with a carefree mind. I've tried to watch my teachers as they grade and grade and grade, so that when I get thrown into the world, I can land on my butt and stand up and do pretty darn good. I've been noticing and observing and loving it. 

Here's to longing for love. Here's for landing on your butt and looking down, only to see God's feet as He waits for you to let Him pick you up. Here's to community, because who knows where I would be without it and it's variations of love. Here's to Young Life and the best moments ever. And here's to grace, because Lord knows we need a lot of it. 

Thanks for loving me. 

-Lin 

oh my lord, your grace

I can't really say that ive been rejoicing lately. My heart hasn't felt it.

I can't say that the bags under my eyes havent begged for makeup, my back has longed for more ice than Antartica contains and more Advil than you can find in all the Walgreens combined. 

I can't say that my heart has been satisfied on a daily basis, or that I have been patient with my brothers and sisters in the Lord. I can't say that I've been a 1 Peter 3:3-7 girlfriend, or that I've been the most loving friend I could be. I can't say that I've read my bible everyday, and I most certainly can not say that I haven't wished that God would just give me a day off and call me back in the morning. 

You know me. I'm gonna talk about how I don't have my crap together, how My sweetest Jesus does, and how he sews my heart together yet again. I chant this to myself; it's my life story. 

I talked with a friend this Sunday. About how I've been cheating myself out of prayer and out of trust through my horrendous back. I was ashamed when I realized that I had been lying to myself and to God about His plan, about how when I thought I was putting my full trust into Him, I was just gritting my teeth and hoping that someone who's actually powerful would come rescue me from pain. 

Oh, but how my God loves. Oh, how He still winks at me daily through grandparents and flowers and hymns. But mostly, my heart is kneeling at His feet, because I've fallen short yet again, friends. But He picked me back up, dusted me off, and through me back into my little life so that I could find joy in Him yet again, and so that I could fail another time and come running back into His arms. My golly, my Father knows me too well. 

I thought it was kind of hard when pastors and friends and strangers would say that following Jesus is hard. I wanted to defend Him, saying that "I know you're strong, I don't believe what those mean peasants say about you." I wanted smirk at them, flex, and tell them how strong we would be together. How nothing would make me look back, and how nothing would ever be hard as I drowned in The Lords love. 

Lol how wrong I was. But at least I was right about one thing: you don't wish you could go back. 

Do I look back over my shoulder? Occasionally. Occasionally I begin to turn my head, and Jesus takes my chin in His gentle hands, so that I can feel the love coursing through His fingers, and I can feel the beloved wounds where the nails used to be. He lets me look at him and awe and wonder how I could ever leave something so precious and perfect. 

And I'm thankful for those looks that keep me going, that keep me waking up every morning at some ungodly hour. That keep the grace flowing into my heart and into the lives of my brothers and sisters that are so much more to me than that name. Man, am I thankful for grace. 

I hope you give yourself a break. I hope you run to where He calls you with the biggest grin on your face, and I hope that wen you trip on the way, that you let Him dust you off and help you start again. I hope you let Him, friend. 

kneeling at my cross yet again, 

        -Lin