The Month of Dreams

November is the month of dreams.

I would never have guessed that before.

The past five months have been anything but full of dreams. The fight I've warred has been the most terrifying of my whole life. There were moments so dark I thought I was going mad. I felt attacked in the innermost part of who I am... my identity as a daughter of the Most High. All the knowledge of the authority I had in Christ seemed to be forgotten. I felt like a victim of something I couldn't control. I knew that God always spoke life over me, but most of the time, all I heard was death.

Death over my dreams.

I guess the month of November is like that. Everything is dying, going to sleep. The last of the leaves fall from the trees, and with them a sadness falls over the land as the color of life fades to gray. Dreams of anything green or growing seem so distant... Impossible, even.

What can I say, God? That I need you to be more than I thought You could be. I feel weak and full of fear. But Your love... it is more than anything I ever thought about You. I have nothing to give You... nothing beautiful about me that would draw You to me. But still, I feel Your love for me. And it's all I've ever wanted. I need to know that they desires that once burned in my heart for You aren't gone forever! I need to know that freedom is not a figment of my imagination. I need to know that dreams can live again.

Some of you have experienced times like this, when dreams aren't anywhere to be found, and some of you haven't. In either case, there's something you need to know.

Your dreams will live again.

They might come back looking different than you had originally planned them. Your heart may have to let go of some things you never wanted to let die. Your heart may end up wanting things you never knew existed before. You might have to be courageous and sacrifice things you've been trying to hold onto.

November may not look like the month of dreams. But in the middle of the dying colors and the grayness comes a new hope that is steady and unchanging. Let Him redefine the things you hold in Your heart. Let Him kill the things that don't belong so that what is lasting can remain. We only have one life. Let us not waste it on what others would have us do. Let us pour it out as a sacrifice at the feet of the only One who deserves it.

I promise it's worth it.

--


"Here you are, my darling," God says.
A dandelion, pure and catching.
She kisses a breath to cast the truth
and it blankets over thirsty bones
and awakens the fallen warriors that forgot their Father.
"Here you are, my darling.
Know who you're fighting for."
She is not alone.

The warriors roll up from the valley
with fists of flowers to kiss.
Together they remembered.
The Lord has spoken.

-Stephanie Stuckey

The Weapon of Thankfulness

It's late. Everyone has gone to bed except dear Jenny, who's in the kitchen making homemade chicken soup. The night is cold. My Christmas lights shine dimly on my wall and memories float around my mind like little orbs of light. They are all good ones.

I am so thankful for this life. For the people I am privileged to spend my days with. For a family that loves and understands me no matter what. For friends that blew past my expectation of what friends could be. For a Love that doesn't fail me, no matter what. Even the memories that used to be bitter in my mouth, the Lover has turned them sweet. It's as if all has been redeemed. I suppose it has...

It's been a very dark season these past few months. I would argue the most dark I have ever had. Sometimes darkness grabs us by the throat and tells us we do not have a voice. The Enemy comes to steal our destiny, kill us, and destroy our identity. He did not play kind. He never does.

In those moments, I felt nothing but despair. But something has begun to rise in my heart, something so much bigger than circumstance. It's thankfulness. Not for anything I have or have done, but for someone who is everything to me, who has given me treasure that no one can see. My Jesus... He is so different than I thought Him to be before. He is much more powerful, much more kind, much more full of love than I could fathom. He is past all that I can understand, and that is what is so beautiful about Him, because no matter how deep I go into who He is, I know that He is undeniably, infinitely good. He is the definition of light and love and beauty. And He loves me! How can that be? 

No matter where I go or what I do, He is always faithful. His heart holds treasures that I cannot even imagine. He is the Truth even when I cannot see it. Just to have Him close, to know Him near, to share in friendship and so much more with the One who died for me... nothing could ever mean more.

Thankfulness is more than a word we use once a year in November. It's more than a list you recite. It's an attitude of the heart. It's a sharp, fiery sword that cuts through depression and disease and darkness. It's a balm that covers your wounded heart and begins to heal. It's the substance of grace. It comes from the heart of Jesus.

Ask Him who He is today. Ask Him to give you a heart that can see what you have been given. And ask Him to show you His love. He will, every time. 

All my love,

B

Rooibos Tea

Today I woke up with dreams in my eyes and an adventure in my bones. The morning was crisp and clear and splashes of orange were on the ground as the leaves finally started to fall and die. There was fog on the road as I drove out to my parents house. The puppy, wriggling with excitement, greeted me at the door. I read George MacDonald with Dad by the fire and we both commented how rich the words came. The smell of wet earth, decaying leaves and blue sky hit my nose and it was as if I was a child again, running free against the cold and effortlessly sweeping life along with her passion. Fall was here. My heart felt like it was spring.

I home to find a box of Rooibos tea sitting on the counter. I stood there for a moment and stared at it. I knew that Sara must have seen it at the store and bought it, due to my incessant rambling about how much I adored it. I eagerly ripped open a package and smelled the teabag. Tears welled up in my eyes as memories flooded back.

Mornings at the apartment on Rose Bay, talking horses and country living and Jesus with Carla.

Late nights songwriting on the back patio at the Lane Cove house, Tyson curled up by my side.

Winter rainstorms at Grandmas, rationing the precious tea so that I could have just one more cup to remember...

As I curl up here with my steaming cup of red tea, I realize that it's been a long year. But the taste makes me remember that not all days have to rush. They can just be. And He knows what my heart longs for. It is in quiet moments like these that He whispers, "I have not forgotten." He still knows what makes me come alive. He always will.

Climbing Everest

I watched the movie "Everest" today. It was full of danger, stormy chaos and death, but it didn't leave me sad. It left me with a sense of longing for adventure, a sense that my dreams could grow again, bigger and brighter than I thought before.

I sat in bed and felt all my dreams return to me, stronger and better and more clear than before. I cried because I felt like all my dreams had been stolen, somehow, and I had lost my strength to hope for them anymore. I felt the fearlessness of living a full life, or at least the hunger for it. I felt love, real love, the extravagant kind that looks beyond the time and sees into the time beyond. If I close my eyes I can see the mountains, the mountains, and the longing seems to awaken my soul in a way that I have not felt in so long...

I long to live in the place where dreams are alive and passion for life bleeds red onto the ground where I walk. I want to live in the present but believe in what could be. I want to have an adventure, a beautiful story that's full and complete and holds nothing back. 

It's ok to dream. He loves our dreaming and He loves the dreamer's passion for what might be.

How do I embrace the season that I'm in? How do I find contentment in every season? How do I love in the midst of dullness? Only He can do it. And He will, I know now that not one dream is forgotten by Him. That's all I needed to know, really. As Amy Carmichael once said, "What a loving memory He has.."

Momma Sandy

I lived next door to her for nearly my entire life and hadn't an inkling what kind of a woman Sandy really was.

She seemed fairly normal on most accounts... spunky, fake pink nails that were a teeny bit too long, gray hair that came down to her ears, and deep wrinkles that made her face shine with the beauty of age. Her husband, Bud, had died in 2001, and she still lived alone in the house on the hill, the new house they built her since hers burnt down some years ago.

I had stopped by earlier this summer when the Lord had diverted me from my normal running route and told me to stop and wet my head with her garden hose (for the record, it was hot). I ended up praying for her and found out very quickly that she knew the Holy Spirit. I didn't realize how much the Lord had set up that encounter until today, when I walked by and again, felt the undeniable urge to stop.

All I can say is that I have forgotten the importance of having older wisdom speak into my life. To honor someone older than you and humble yourself by coming under their advice and authority is something especially wonderful when that person is as beautiful and on fire for the Lord as is Sandy.

She told me a lot of stories. About Bud's radical salvation and then baptism by the Holy Spirit. About being delivered of demonic oppression and fighting for salvation for everyone she met. About knowing Jesus more and more every day, by His goodness and His mercy. And intermingled with it all was the sound of revelation, a stumbling block for some and a rock for my weary heart. When did I stop being a hungry child? I thought, laughing in awe at the power of the rama word of God. Layers of knowledge, she said, and Holy Spirit reveals them all to us if we will wait to hear them. 

She prayed for me. I felt joy and peace as she covered my mind and heart with the blood of Jesus and rebuked the Enemy. She prayed warring angels that would go with me and guardian angels that would surround me. I felt them. I also felt the Lord rejoicing at the power of two generations agreeing, at a daughter looking to a mother and freely receiving the gifts and revelation that she has fought for over decades. It was something special I have not felt before.

In that moment, I was reminded of something the Lord had told me almost a year before.

Not many people should be able to speak into your life. Guard who you let close to your heart. I will show you who those people are.

In the Kingdom, the power of agreement is strong. If the agreement binds together two generations, that power is magnified tenfold. I am so thankful for the grace and wisdom of God to surround us with people who will speak His truth into our lives. We are always paving a way for our children and the next generation to follow in what victory we have already attained. I hope I am one of those women someday. A Momma Sandy.

Song of the Sea

I saw the sea today. It sang to me, a sweet haunting lull that drowned out the rain's rhythm. The sun danced on my skin. The wind hurt my ears and whipped my hair and made my eyes shine. They had seen some dull days, but the light filled them again like liquid gold that dripped down into my bones and told me it would not be dark again.

I will come when you call, Oh Great Love.

Grandpa wore a hat that made him look like John Paul Jones, and I giggled when he exchanged a jab with Grandma as they chipped mussels off the wet rock, slippery with seaweed. Mom and Dad were bundled against the wind, their lumpy jackets and mismatched colors bold against the green-brown. I felt joy bubble in my chest. It was a beautifully new feeling.

Truly, I thought. I have a good and faithful inheritance.

There had been so many empty words. They are hardly comfort for someone who has lost her joy. The earth was full of them. The road had been strewn with bones and smelled of death. The Enemy told me I would die too. Soon. Not only my body, but my very spirit. Who I was and would be will wither under endless night. The darkness spoke and blinded my eyes so I could not see. I had forgotten the smell of the sea, the cleansing of the gray raging beauty. In that moment, I could hear the sound of faint weeping. That's Him, I realized. He suffered too.

(Even to your old age, I am He, 
And even to gray hairs, I will carry you!
I have made, and I will bear,

Even I will carry, and will deliver you.)

(Is. 46:14)

As a woman thinks in her heart, so she is, and I had been locked in a cage of fear. He desired truth in the inward parts, and He was removing fear. Fear of being opposed. Fear of being oppressed. Fear of what people would think when they saw His glory. What took its place was freedom. To live boldly, to live with love in my heart and a song on my tongue. I had longed for this. 

(If I doubled your trials, would you still be patient?)

Only if you double my love. And You always do. I want to know Your love more.

(Do not worry about tomorrow, for it will have enough trouble. Think only of this moment. Of the sun filtered through the trees and the sound of quiet and your own hand creating new thoughts and giving heed to wisdom. You do not have to live in fear, you know. You can live free and wild. I do not hurry, and neither should you need to. All my purposes will be finished and complete, but maybe not the time that you think, maybe it will take longer. Maybe it will be shorter. But trust me. I know you. I know you, Beloved. You have my permission to rest. To be you. To dance and sing and sometimes remain quiet and listen to what I have to say. I will give you all you need. Only rest.)

The sea sang her song. I let the notes kiss my face and I joined in.

Traveller's Eyes

The first rain of fall was pattering on the roof and shimmering in the air.

I poured my coffee and wrote. The feel of the pen across the thick page, crisp like the air, felt good. I could see yellow out the window. Peace was on the air. It tasted better than I could have imagined.

It felt like I had come home from a long journey. Everything smelled different, looked different. I saw everything with weary traveller's eyes, but they were my own. And so was this place, this place of cozy fires and warm coffee and misty chill. It was good to breathe. And it was good to feel home.

Sometimes we lose ourselves in the wild river of Life that seemed to always be moving. I knew I had. It was like I had gone back nine months in time and all of a sudden, He had redeemed everything and I stood, empty-handed before the Lover. But though I had nothing, I could hear Him singing over me. Songs of hope. Sweet, blessed hope that men would give everything for.

Instead of going to school, I went fishing with Dad up in the mountains. The hike was hard. My legs trembled. I felt weak and small, there in the green and blue and brown. I caught ten fish to Dad's seven. He called me the fish guru. I breathed in clear air and felt some rest. It had been a long time. This is where I belonged, I knew in my heart. The mountains always accepted wanderers, though they might toss them around a little bit.

I had felt so much guilt. I sat on the couch the night before with Mother and tearfully admitted that I felt wrong in everything I did, and everything I was. And she looked me in the eye and cried. But He BLED! He died! No one else would ever do that. He called you lovely, never guilty again.

How had I forgotten? In all the mess of things... How I had forgotten the faithfulness of the One who had loved forever?

Do you know about the Love that is above every other? The Love that demands all, but gives everything? The Love that pulses through your veins, as deep as it is high? Come to Love, sit with Him and tell Him of your heart. He longs to know you, as you long to know the mystery of the glorious unknown in the depths of your heart. 

I guess you could say Love has changed me again. We're all on a journey of change. It's a beautiful thing, if you can see it that way. Letting Love change you might be the best thing about life. I know it is for me.

Oh God, teach me to be loved, deeply and radically and desperately loved until it can't be contained in my body, until every thought is love. Teach me to wait, that every day would bring only the thought of today's beauty, not the pain of memory or the uncertainty of tomorrow. Teach me to love righteousness and purity. Show me the beauty of the Ages, the deep beauty hidden for the children to find in their laughter, the strong pull of the Spirit who moves my heart and mind and body to love and believe again.

May you know Love today.

All my love,

B

September Salve

Like a salve on my wounded heart.

That's the best way I can explain what I feel, as I sit here in awe of it. It's more peaceable than any earthly thing you could extrapolate out of your intelligent mind regarding peace, sweeter than a feeling you could ever imagine having would be, and more steady than what piddly, wobbly thing you thought it was to be unchanging.

It's just Him.

You're breaking off the chains,

You're breaking off the fear,

You're breaking off the disappointment of the seasons,

When I thought Youd left me,

You're never gonna leave.

Everything is different, somehow, and I do not pretend to be a knowledgeable theologian about such matters, but I will say that something has shifted in the deep part of things. It will prove to change everything else about me.

If I did not die, then the wine would not be poured out.

If I did not die, I would stay old and decaying forever.

But I did die. And I was crucified with Christ.

Is this what it feels like to be raised with Him?

I thought I would lose part of myself if I let go. That was a lie. You must lose your life to find more of it. You find your life, you cannot be concerned about saving it. You must die to live.

\\ S U M M E R F L Y \\

The summer has flown by so quickly, and here I stand in its last day, inhaling august blackberry drifts and the whisper of September-sweet dampness that slides off of the alder leaves along the road. The air is quiet, but pregnant with a secret, one only September will reveal. Rustling murmurs of peace coming, peace that passes what my mind has known.
The majority of my days have been numb, clouded with a sense of guilt-something-I-can't-quite-pinpoint. When I speak, ashes are breathed into the air in front of me, and I look down to see that I am fading, or at least the shadow-person I was. The real B was somewhere in the atmosphere, shining and ever-elusive as I tried to grasp her in vain. I only caught glimpses, and in-between the ashes in my heart called out for redemption. I felt even my hope slip out of my fingers like liquid honey, begging to be eaten but wasted on the gray ground.

I do not claim to be completely healed in my heart. I wonder that I ever thought I was, that is until I meet the Giver-of-breath face-to-face and He gives me the last piece of the silly thing. I do know one thing... 

I woke up with hope today.

It was just... there as I came out of a sweet dream. Freedom was there too, as sure as the joy that spills down like oil over my head, healing my scars and healing my heart. Hope is a person. So is Freedom, as a matter of fact. And He was there, with me.

I have been meditating on what David meant when he said that God was his salvation. How deep does salvation run, really? How far can beauty pierce through the skin of deception and turn a dead thing alive? It's a frightful yet inevitable thing to come to the end of yourself. I pray it comes sooner than later for you, and that it comes often. 

August was the month of being laid bare. September is one of hope. Hope and Freedom. I welcome her with open arms.

\\ Beautiful Broken August \\

I shut my tractor off for the day and wiped the dust from my windows, breathing in the sticky wind that darkened my face and filled my lungs, even from inside the air-conditioned comfort of my cab. The days had been hot, Mike said when he came to fill up my tractor with diesel. I wouldn't really know, for I was in the cab from the time the sun came up until it was well on its way down. The days had been long. I was tired. My body ached for sleep, for the comfort of the glance of human eyes or the touch of a human hand, but the times were of aloneness, something I once cherished but now had grown to dread.

The Lord had told me in July that August would be a month of being laid bare. I was ecstatic (really, I'm not sure how), because I knew I would be gaining something precious by being stretched past the things I depend on. Now I felt... 

Broken. Laid low. Desperate. All those words seemed glamorous and Christian before-the-fact but now that they're here, make me want to wither up like my neglected back-porch oregano plant and die.

I started up Steve (my Ford Tempo) and began the long drive home, stretching my fingers out at the sweet wind as if trying to catch it. The sunset made my heart ache. I didn't even reach for my camera. It was too sacred and full of awe to try and explain second-hand. It soon faded to a deep pink above the purple hills, and the ache in my heart grew stronger, as if grieving that it would soon fade. 

I am so full of knowledge. Knowing, knowing, knowing, talking, preaching, telling, showing, reaching, grasping at more, more, why can't I have more, God, when I am so hungry, but somehow, there is still an ache here in my chest, and I cannot tell why. You know my heart and what I ask of You and You give all good things to Your children. I feel pressed like a grape, like my guts are spilled out for all the angels to watch and see. How do I love as You do? Love those who speak evil of me, those who I want to judge with words that are Yours and not mine, love though my heart longs to hate, love like You tell me to love. I do not know my own self, it seems, for the ways of my own heart are full of pride and deceit. I am weak, Father, and I can't do this, cannot be righteous, cannot have a pure heart like You, cannot love...

The song pounds in my head, the one that I listened to last night through my one functional earphone, as present as the stale-coffee smell in my nose and the Orange-tinged dust in the air all around me.

I will remove the names of your Lovers

Even the memory of their face fades away

I will write on you My name forever

I will be known by you as Faithful and True

See, I am drawing you to Me.

I weep as the walls of pride come crashing down, the walls I had erected as a tribute to the lover I had worshipped, the lover of Independence and Rebellion, The Love of self I so desperately clung to as it passed away. It was dying. I was dying. And still, the eyes of my True Lover burned for me.

You cannot come alive unless you die.

And again, I cry out for the release of what I tightly hold. The humble cry of a child at the end of her own strength. "Daddy, take my heart!" The little seed cries as it sheds its outer shell in the darkness of the earth. Not inches away lies light and clear air and the Sun, Oh! The sun! 

Truly, I want to grow. I've only scratched the surface of You. But I feel helpless to start, helpless to help anything. I need You. I need Your glorious Presence. I know nothing else. That is all. That is all.

\\ Good Days \\

"You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out, and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are real, you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."

Becoming anything is really hard.

Sometimes my mind runs circles until I work myself into a mental frenzy. This past week has been one of learning how to rest in love and not be so intense. In my waiting on the Lord to make me what He promised, sometimes I take myself too seriously. I am not where I should be. I am not where I want to be. I should have my life more together. I should be praying right now, not wasting my life away on Instagram. Lord, I can't feel you right now as I wallow in thoughts about myself. Will I ever be able to really minister to people if I still feel these mundane days that make me feel... blah? These thoughts run circles in my head as I sit in my tractor and think of all the ways that I fall short.

And then the Lord comes to me in His gentle way, and a few tears escape my eyes when I realize that the Accuser is the one who has been speaking into my mind, telling me that I am not enough, that I do not have the ability to carry the weight of living that I want to walk in. And my Jesus, He looks at me with such love in His eyes, always speaking life over my heart and never judgement, even when I judge myself. No negative thought has ever come from Him. He has never had one negative thought about you.

Beloved, when those voices speak at you and impart guilt, don't heed them... They are from the Father of Lies, and He is speaking His native tongue. Jesus is for you, and not against you. He reminded me this week that He promised us that He would always be with us, even to the end. I believe Him, and that belief is what sustains my joy as I live life with Him, whether it's experiencing His beautiful glorious Presence really thickly, or just sitting next to him at a coffee shop and not really feeling a thing.

Have a good day today. A day full of joy, of the knowledge that you are loved and you are enough. A day of quieting your mind and hearing with your heart. A day of resting in the promise that He will finish the good work that He began in you, that His word does not return to Him void.

And know that becoming is not accomplished by doing, but just by being with Him.

All my love,


B

Just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life. (Rom. 6:4)

E V E R Y D A Y L I F E

Where do I start?

Can you believe it's been seven months since I stepped off a plane in Portland? Seven months. I can hardly believe it. It feels a little strange to try and summarize even a small portion of all that has happened in my little life, for the weight of life has been so rich, so sweet, and so full of beauty and love that I could not convey it even if I had a library full of books. How sweet that feeling is, to be brimming, overflowing...

I stepped off the plane grieving the loss of the family I had left behind in Sydney, my heart deeply sorrowful at what seemed to me, being pushed into the next season before I was ready.  Almost immediately, blessing was poured out on me from the moment I returned home. God brought me out of the isolation of wandering and into a family, a group of women and men I could not have asked for in my wildest dreams to do life with. They are crazily, passionately, completely sold out for my Jesus, and they challenge me and sharpen me to life a life worthy of Jesus! I thought I would come back to a lonely pioneer life, to doing life with just me and God, and to fighting stagnancy. Er... that's not exactly what happened. We've been led into some crazy situations in the past season, including praying for people at a rugby party, divine appointments at the bank and in the grocery store, and beautiful times of worship late into the night in our living room. The Lord has swept me up in the arms of family, and I have never been more full of hope.

I received a call in February that I a spot had opened up in the Linfield School of Nursing for me, and if I was to accept it, classes would start in two weeks. Needless to say, it has been my dream for as long as I can remember, and I took it. In the past 5 months, have fallen totally in love not only with the work I'll be doing, but the students I am learning with and the sick and weary, who  have moved my heart so incredibly that I feel it will be one of my callings in life to minister the heart and healing of God to those who are physically and mentally ill. It has been a challenge to submit myself to the discipline of learning, the processes of schoolwork and the humility of doing challenging things for the first time, but I have grown immensely in the process of it all, and more than just scholastically.

Other happenings include my brother joining the navy and moving to South Carolina and two of my best friends getting engaged!!!

In all of the changes that have happened this past few years, God has steadied my heart in a way I never thought possible. I have learned to love people, even my family, when it's hard, instead of running away. I have learned to rest and be still with the Lord, to surrender myself to His purposes and His promises for my life. Most of all, I have learned how to be loved by Him, which is the single most wonderful thing in all the universe, something I cannot live without. He has become what sustains me, not any good thing that I possess. I am amazed at the way His love changes people, and changes my heart to be like Him, more loving and patient and good and kind.

My heart for the mission field has only grown larger since returning. The Lord has put it on my heart to return to the foreign mission field, though right now I do not know how or when. I have been shown that wherever I go, I am sent by Him. I am learning to be a radical follower of Jesus in the dry and hungry places of the world. This time of life has been one of waiting, but when I become anxious about what lies ahead for us, the children of God, James 1 comes to mind. It has brought a lot of peace to me.

...But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.

I pray wherever you are, beloved, that you are full of the love of our Savior. He has become everything to me, and I pray He is everything to you as well, your peace and joy and daily bread.

All my love,

Beth

Easter picture

Visiting JJ at Great Lakes, Illinois for boot camp graduation.

Monmouth crew

4th of July Parade