Reflection on a Decade

191223-10th-anniversary-year-end-decade-end-reporting-food-farming-agriculture-top

As I reflect back on this past decade, I have so much hope for the road ahead, because I can clearly see how God has been working all things together for good. When I think back and remember who I was on January 1st 2010 – I see so much personal growth. On a day-to-day basis it’s easy to look at my life and be discontent. This isn’t the way I pictured it. I should be doing more. I should have accomplished more. There are so many goals I set for myself and never completed. But on January 1st 2010 I was a shy, high school senior, attending youth group each week, and trying to decide where I should go to college.  I was scared. I was full of hope. I was in a season of learning to navigate grief and loss. I had little knowledge about the world around me outside of my church, my town, and my family – let alone any knowledge or confidence of who I was and what my purpose in life was. Would I stay home and go to the college 20 minutes from my house? Or would I go to the school 1.5 hours away? It was the first major life decision I ever made. I remember going to the Gardner-Webb campus in February 2010 for a scholarship interview. I did not get the scholarship, but the experience confirmed that Gardner-Webb was where I needed to spend the next four years of my life. I didn’t take in the full picture of the cost. I didn’t anticipate that financial aid would slowly dwindle away each year, and I didn’t take into consideration the loans I would still be paying off 10 years later – I just knew there was a nudging in my heart for me to step outside of my comfort zone, to leave home for least 5 days a week and experience something new. And although I sometimes resent that 17-year-old girl for her choice when I am making those student loan payments each month, I am so proud of her decision to walk bravely scared into an unknown future, because that decision made me who I am today, and I am eternally grateful.

If it wasn’t for the grief and the loss, I might not have made that same decision. I wouldn’t have understood the brevity of life. I wouldn’t have appreciated the little moments that make big impacts. That year opened my eyes to so much. I learned about the power of brokenness and transparency among a community of believers. I learned about the power of worship. I learned about the beauty and history of scripture and the church. Until then, I had only ever accepted everything that was told to me as truth without reading and understanding the context for myself. It was the first time I started to see that there were people who believed differently than me, went to different types of churches than me – but still desperately loved and served Jesus. It was the first time I started to read through the Gospels and get to know Jesus for myself. It was on that college campus that Jesus became so much more real to me. His Kingdom was so much bigger. His love was so much deeper.  His presence was so much more real. His purpose was so much more passionate. His friendship was so much more personal.

It was in October of that year that I found myself on my knees alone in my dorm room floor with an open Bible and an open journal in front of me when I made the decision to start a blog. My expectations were not aligning with my reality, and I felt spiritually weak, but I met with God in the place of my pain. I put pen to paper to write what He was speaking to my heart, and then decided to share those words with the world. That first post was titled “Weakness in the Spirit: Where do I find my strength?” and I remember it vividly. Although I sometimes cringe when I go back and read some of those early writings, I am grateful for that lonely college freshman who decided to once again step out in faith and do something she had never done before. A few months later I posted a blog with lyrics to a song we had been singing on campus. The song was “Set a Fire” by United Pursuit and it was not well known at the time. My post showed up in the Google results when people searched for the lyrics. I started having comments come in from all over the country of people who had found my site after looking up the words of the song. People I had never met were telling me my writing encouraged them and gave them the kick-start they needed. They thanked me for my faithfulness and encouraged me to keep writing. I received comments telling me my blog provided the confirmation they needed. I received comments asking deep questions about whether or not I believed God could heal the sick, and if so, why did He heal some and not others. I never set out to reach the world, but somehow, I was making an impact on the lives of people I had never met, and I was doing it from within my dorm room. I found passion and purpose in writing. Over the years, that blog would receive over 45,000 views. Not much to some – but more than I could have ever imagined when I first started writing and hit the “post” button on that Tuesday night in my dorm room.

It was in my University 111 class during that freshman year that I took the Myers-Briggs test for the first time and discovered my personality type was an INFJ. The “I” stood for introvert. It was the first time my personality had a name. It was the first time I realized why I was the way I was. It was the first time I realized I was not alone in the world – I was rare, but I was not alone.

When I started college, I thought I would make lifelong friendships and maybe find my future husband while I was there, but that did not happen. I met some amazing people who significantly impacted my life, but college didn’t miraculously change my quiet, guarded, and reserved personality. I didn’t magically start opening up and allowing people to get to know me. In fact, it wasn’t until after I graduated college and moved back home that I first started to establish my closest friendships. I remember the early days of our friendship so clearly, because it was all so new to me. It was exactly what I had always hoped and prayed for – and they came into my life without me ever going out looking for them. They showed up uninvited during a time when God knew I needed them the most. They welcomed me in without me ever asking to be included. They climbed over walls I built to keep them out. They kept asking questions when I tried to shut down. They continually challenged me and never accepted my silence as an answer. They forced themselves into my introverted life, and my life has been changed for the better ever since.

Ten years ago, I would get anxious at even the thought of getting on a plane or a boat. My dad offered to take my sister and I on a big trip the year she graduated high school and I graduated college – but I couldn’t accept the offer. I was too afraid. It made me sick to my stomach to even think about being in the open sky or open water. I looked at the shortest flights and cruises I could find, but I couldn’t manage to choose where I would want to go. The fear was overwhelming and I couldn’t conquer it. I remember those tears so clearly. I was so disappointed in myself.

But since that day, I’ve stood at the top of the Gateway Arch. I’ve been on a riverboat cruise in the Mississippi River. I’ve been on two cruises to the Bahamas. I’ve flown to Washington DC on a spontaneous whim just to conquer my fear of flying. I stood at the Lincoln Memorial and witnessed a march for peace and civility. I visited the Holocaust Memorial, the Museum of Natural History, the National Art Gallery, the Bible Museum, and countless other historical landmarks and memorials. I flew to New Orleans, walked Bourbon Street, participated in a Second Line, and ate gumbo and beignets. I flew to Chicago, walked along the Riverwalk, ate deep dish pizza, and stepped out on the ledge at Willis Tower. It was as if one day my desire to see the world suddenly became bigger than my fear of how I would get there.

So, when I say this decade has been life-changing and life-giving, I mean it with all the sincerity in my heart. I am not who I was ten years ago. I am not without fear, but I am learning to let my faith be bigger than my fear. I am not without insecurity, but I am learning to stand securely on the promises of God. I am not without discouragement and disappointment from time to time, but I am learning to find peace, contentment, and joy in who I am and where I am at this point in my life.

In the past ten years I’ve graduated high school, college, and graduate school. I’ve established a career in human services, and I love the work I’m able to do and be a part of in the community. I’ve counseled, mentored, and coached people who just needed some extra support and encouragement. I’ve been counseled, mentored, and coached myself. I’ve become a homeowner. I’ve led Bible Studies. I’ve wrote blogs. I’ve completed training to become a licensed foster parent. I’ve watched people I love get married, have babies, and buy houses. I’ve seen God answer prayers, break generational strongholds, and show up in ways I never even thought to ask Him to. I’ve seen Him exceed my expectations time and time again. And I know this is only the beginning. He’s just getting started. There is still so much more beauty and adventure left to come.

In the past few years, I’ve learned a lot about poverty, injustice, racial inequity, systematic oppression, abuse, neglect, and trauma. These are heavy topics. And compassion fatigue is real. It’s easy to burnout when the problems of this world are so overwhelming and you feel so powerless to change them. It’s easy to scroll through social media and pretend the social justice issues don’t exist simply because they aren’t impacting you directly. It’s easy to binge watch mindless tv shows to escape the harsh reality of the world for a brief period of time. But I can’t let those habits continue into this new decade. God has done a great work within me these past 10 years, and as I move into this new decade, I’m asking Him to do a great work through me. I want to be less passive and more active. I want to be less self-centered, and more kingdom-focused. I wanted to be less distracted and more attentive. I want to be less hidden and more present. I want people to see Jesus when they look at me, hear Jesus when they speak to me, and feel Jesus when they are near me. I want to be His hands and His feet. I don’t just want to be changed by Him; I want to be used for Him. I don’t have a perfect vision for what 2020 will bring, but that’s okay, because I’m walking by faith and not by sight.

Transparency

img_6727

What does it mean to be transparent?

The Merriam-Webster definition is 1) “having the property of transmitting light without appreciable scattering so that bodies lying beyond are seen clearly, fine or sheer enough to be seen through” or 2) “free from pretense or deceit, easily detected or seen through, readily understood, characterized by visibility or accessibility of information.”

Transmitting light. Clearly seen. Free from pretense. Free from deceit. Easily detected. Readily Understood. Characterized by visibility.

These are all qualities we desperately need in the body of Christ.

We call ourselves “Christians” – and we’ve painted an image of what a “Christian” looks like… But our image doesn’t reflect the Christ we represent. Our Christ was transparent. He was light. He was life. He was truth. He told His followers, “I am the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6). Jesus was real. He was honest. He withheld nothing. He lived to please no one but the Father. The religious leaders scorned and ridiculed Him, but God delighted Him and declared over Him, “This is my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased” (Matthew 3:17).

To look at Jesus was to see God.

When the disciples asked, “Lord, show us the Father.” Jesus boldly declared, “Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father” (John 14:8-9). That’s the definition of transparency. That’s how well Jesus represented the Father. If we call ourselves followers of Christ, then should we not strive to live just as transparent?

If we are representing light, then why is there still so much darkness in the world?

If we are representing truth, then why is there still so much deceit in the world?

It is because we have our light hid under a bushel, and we’ve concealed the truth behind a mask. We’re afraid to be seen, afraid to be known. But in our fears, we’ve blocked the world from seeing and knowing who Christ truly is.

Hiding has never been easier than it is now.

Masks have never been as accessible as they are now.

We live in a world where we create the life we want to portray to the world. We only post the pictures we want people to see, and we only share the stories we want people to read. We photoshop and shape our image to meet our standards – ignoring the fact that God Himself, in all His Glory, created and shaped us into His image. We are fearfully and wonderfully made, but what God sees as wonderful, we see as woeful – so we hide it away. We literally conceal and make-up our faces, and filter our memories. We delete what we don’t want, and edit what we want to change. We pick and choose, cut and paste, move around and re-arrange. We, the created and formed, try to take on the job of creating and forming.

We are the work of God’s hands, not the other way around. He is the Potter, and we are the clay, but we’ve tried to shift the roles. Romans 9:20-21 says, “But who are you, a human being, to talk back to God? Shall what is formed say to the one who formed it, ‘Why did you make me like this?’ Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for special purposes and some for common use?”

Special is purposeful.

Common is useful.

God has a plan and a purpose for every aspect of our lives. We may not always understand His ways, but we have to trust His will. And in order to stay in His will, we must stay on His wheel. When we neglect the process of the Potter, we slow the progress of the clay. The Potter is powerful enough to create the most beautiful of masterpieces from the most broken of messes. When Jeremiah went down to the potter’s house and saw him working at the wheel, God revealed a powerful message to him. Jeremiah 18:3-6 says, “So I went down to the potter’s house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him. Then the word of the Lord came to me. He said, ‘Can I not do with you, Israel, as this potter does?’ declares the Lord. ‘Like clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, Israel.'”

Like marred clay in the hand of the Potter, so are we.

I heard it said once, “There is nothing more beautiful than to be broken in the arms of the Savior.” These words ring so true in my life. Some of the most beautiful moments in my life have been moments of brokenness. We need to learn to embrace the beauty of our brokenness. Brokenness brings us together like nothing else can. It unites us with other broken people who share our same sorrows and bear our same burdens. More importantly, brokenness brings us closer to the Savior by awakening our need for His presence and power in our lives.

We live in a broken world, but if the world never knows we’ve been broken then how will they ever know we’ve been healed?

Without transparency, how can we relate to the brokenness of others? How can we bear one another’s burdens? How can we comfort and encourage one another? How can we give hope if we never share our hurt?

How can we ever live out the Gospel if we never extend the Grace that was given to us?

This world needs truth.

This world needs transparency.

There are broken people in the world who need to see through your healing, past your heart, and to your hurt. They need to see Jesus through it all – to see the hand of the Potter at work.

Don’t stand still. Don’t keep quiet.

Don’t let fear hold you captive. Don’t let shame hide your face.

Share your brokenness. Share it boldly. Share it beautifully.

At the communion table, Jesus broke the bread so He could give it away. At the cross, Jesus, the Bread of Life, was broken so He could be given away.

The word “communion” in the original Greek language is “koinoia” which means “sharing in common.” When we break the bread and drink the wine of communion, we are sharing in the suffering of Christ. The cross ties us together by a common bond. We have all sinned. We all fall short of the glory of God. We all know the death, disease, and destruction that comes as a result of the sinfulness of this world. We are not alone in our brokenness. We are not alone in our shame, nor in our sorrow.

The word “koinoia” also translates to “fellowship” – and transparency is what makes deep fellowship possible. True fellowship requires transparency, and true transparency requires confession.

Proverbs 28:13 says, “Whoever conceals their sins does not prosper, but the one who confesses and renounces them finds mercy.”

James 5:16 says, “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed…”

Confession is an act of surrender. It is opening yourself up to receive mercy, opening yourself up to receive healing.

I challenge you to be more transparent. Find someone to confide it. Confess whatever sins and struggles you are facing right now. Expose your weakness to find your strength. Tear down the walls of your pride to build trust and find peace. Take off the mask you created and learn to embrace your true identity in Christ. Let go of everything that holds you back and weighs you down. Stop playing games and pretending to be someone God never intended you to be. There is freedom in surrender.

Don’t be afraid to make yourself known. When you lay down the burden of hiding and pretending, you will discover the joy of simply being. Be loved. Be who God has called you to be. No more shame, no more fear.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love He predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will— to the praise of His glorious grace, which He has freely given us in the One He loves. In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us. With all wisdom and understanding, He made known to us the mystery of His will according to His good pleasure, which He purposed in Christ, to be put into effect when the times reach their fulfillment—to bring unity to all things in heaven and on earth under Christ.”

– Ephesians 1:3-10