I got called out today.

Riding home from my favorite place with two of my favorite people, The Lord stirred my heart and caused a restlessness within me that, as I write this, is starting to settle down. 
I mean, that's gotta be something. So, everything's settled, right God? I'm good?

WRONG. WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG WRONG, 1000x WRONG.



I got my life ripped out from under me this year. I cried, I hurt, I cry, and I still hurt. Which is precisely my point: I'm broken. If I was God, Lindsay Carroll would be the first person out on the street, and the last person to be associated with the word 'kingdom', or 'child'. Lindsay Carroll would be the one weeping and begging with no persuasion, the one that everyone else acts like they don't see because they don't want to be apart of that broken mess. If I was God, Lindsay Carroll wouldn't even be a thought in the back of my mind. 

But we can rejoice over the fact that I'm not God, or we would live in a world of utter chaos and I guarantee you that we would all be screwed. Wow. I have chills at that horrifying thought. 

Before you start getting annoyed with my all-over-the-place writing, I'll go ahead and clarify:
The Lord questioned me about what makes me content, what I hide in, and what I find worth in. 

And let me just tell you, friends. That's the most difficult question you could ask me. 
I could give you some sugar, spice, and everything nice answer, but I'd be lying to myself and to you. And if I do that, I might as well shut this laptop and delete the entire blog, because that's not what I'm here to do. 

Pride. I find worth in pride. Grades, ooooo how good grades feel so good. Words of affirmation from people. Assurance. Friendships. Body-images. Beauty. Other people liking me. I could go on and on, I double-pinky swear.
The word God was not in that pathetic list once. Neither was love, serving others, all the kind of things I find The Lord in. I run from Him so much, and try to keep a solid distance from Him so I don't have to go through anything hard, anything that might require a drop of faith or a little risk in knowing I'm not in control. But the only thing worse than running is sticking around for that pathetic first list, the one I'm not proud of, the one I don't always like to own up to.

But thankfully, this blog, this story of mine, isn't about me because if it was, it wouldn't sell. This story is about God, and I like to think that it's a bestseller.
And friends, this is such a hard story to write. I'm sitting here typing, wondering if the letters that I push are the right ones, and if this is exactly how God wants it. But I've been learning lately that The Lord is content with my broken heart. I find it funny that I'm the one that has to learn to be content with Him, the God of the Universe that has everything. I'm the one learning to be content with so much, while He is in love and overjoyed by so little. It's amazing and incomprehensible, and beautiful and ironic.

"It's crazy, if you think about it. The God of the universe-the Creator of nitrogen and pine needles, galaxies and E-minor- love us with a radical, unconditional, self-sacrificing love. And what is our typical response? We go to church, sing songs, and try not to cuss." -Francis Chan

I challenge you, sweet friends, to let go a little more and to give Him a little more. To bask in the glory and incredibleness that is Our God, and to spend a little more time with the one that died to be able to be with you. Let your self be in awe; that's where you will find me, right now.

(P.S.- You know me, I didn't read over this so I hope it'll do!)

Love, lindsAy.