Conrad

Darling, dear One, don't you know,
my heart, it bled and beat like yours?
but all too soon you took the fall
and I never knew what lay behind that smile.

There's empty words and worthless lies
they speak of you and of your life,
Oh, if they knew the sacrifice
and the treasure that lay behind your smile.

You knew what it was like to fight out on the battlefield
to see your soul be crushed
like a faithful son, you carried on,
until it was too much

My fellowman, my confidant,
was there something I could have done?
all that I had to give was what I had,
a guarded, broken heart.

We shuffle on, we find our way
through bitter truths and brighter days
And through it all, I'll think of you,
and the truth that lay beyond that tired smile.

To Conrad, Died October 19th, 2016. You will never be forgotten.

The Rains

The rains have come.

They've come hard, plunging the world around me into a windblown gray frenzy of water. The summer is gone, as swiftly as it came, but I'm ready for fall. The fall has always brought me peace as my soul returns to a simpler place, cleansed by the water that it desperately needs and the cold that forces it to freeze or burn hotter. The way the season changes makes me feel like I could too, like I don't have to spend forever in a drunken-staggering through life.

And if I'm honest, it has been a rather-drunken stagger. The days have been long and dark, and getting darker as they grow shorter. I wake up, drive the long commute to school, sit in class and mindlessly cram my mind with information day after day, go to the hospital and come home and try desperately to study, try to see the people that I care about on a regular basis, try to deal with the emotion of seeing deeply sick and hurting people and what to feel and do about it, and then I'm going to bed and I find I haven't stopped all day just to... breathe. I feel most days as if I'm stumbling through life, not even normally walking through it. It's gonna be ok, I tell my heart. Soon, I will learn how to hear you again. 

But I realized today that I've forgotten how to be still. I am aching for a simplifying, a newness in my heart.

See, I used to know. I remember feeling able to slow my mind down long enough to realize where my thoughts were coming from, and why I was feeling the way I was feeling the moment. I remember what it was like to be in the moment, a breathtaking peace that surpasses all the moments that came before. But now, I am mostly conscious of fending off the feeling of panic that too soon will cause everything to fall apart... Or I am conscious of a numbness that feels more like a forgetting of something-- or of someone.

But you've forgotten, my heart cries. Somewhere along the way of living, you've forgotten to live. You have forgotten yourself, how to remember the truth. You have forgotten Me. 


Please God, my timid soul whispers, almost silently-- I want to live again.

I am learning to allow my soul to receive the newness it needs, even when it is scary. We must allow ourselves the grace to be cleansed in the times when we desperately need change. We must stay connected to our Source, we must be honest with ourselves about how we are really feeling, not suppressing emotion to please any person, not making ourselves into something we're not to please the world. We must give ourselves time. We must give ourselves honesty. We must give ourselves love.

May the change of the season bring a newness to your heart that you desperately need. Where you felt like you were at the end, may this time bring you a new hope that you have never known before, one that will whisper to you,

Better things are ahead than any we leave behind.

May you have peace.

All my love,

B

The Fall of Me

The way the sun looked at me had changed.

Almost overnight, it seemed. She sunk below the mountains that were gray and golden all at once, mourning the summer that was already gone. The evenings brought glorious freedom and light like I had never seen before. The mornings were cold, but the fog hung over the fields as I drove to school and I found myself wanting to eat it, to somehow capture it in a way that would sink into my consciousness and never let me forget its beauty.

I have been here before, I thought to myself, walking on the road.

These moments seemed to catch me again and again, the moments that seemed to whisper that not was all as it was, that there was another place that called to me from beyond the borders of what I knew was real. That reality was not at all what we thought it was. That if only I could open my eyes, really open my eyes, then I could really see the truth.

The more I thought about these moments of mystery, the more I felt the unknown places calling me, I wanted to go there. I sometimes didn't know how, but I wanted to go there--so desperately. More than I wanted to breathe, for to know the unknown is what I longed for as the epitome of my life, what I was made for. What I longed for amidst the mundane, scholastic, dull, intellectual moments of my life. It was what I wanted before money, before love, before fame. My heart beat with it.

And I think that's why people around here in these parts love the Oregon fall... it makes them realize that they, too, will fade in the end, but that in that dying, in that beautiful moment when the seed hits the ground and breaks open on the dirt, that something else more beautiful will emerge. They know when they see the browning of the earth and feel the chill that there are wilder things than summer to be had for man. There are lands to be discovered, mountains to be climbed, oceans to cross, rivers to ford, and lands to explore. There is more to live for for us than just this in and out, in and out breathing that we lose ourselves in as we go to work, come home, play with our phones, take the dog for a walk, kiss our lovers, kiss our kids, go to bed, forget to look up, forget to know that we were made to run free...

It's not just the Fall I love. It's that it brings to my mind the fall of me. The fact that I am mortal. The fact that I am neither robot nor heavenly being, but flesh and blood and bones that can hurt and bleed and cry. The fact that I only have so much breath to live, but there is one who lives in me that roars with passion and life and I do not have to live a boring life... in fact, I am called out of that and into the Light.

Oh, you precious dreamers, don't give up. Without dreams, we will lose the bliss of romance and the love of the wild places, and that must never happen. It is our lifeblood. It is our purpose.

 

 

Believing In Jesus (Gospel Style)

It's only when I start to tell someone about Him when I realize how much I don't know Him at all.

It's a sobering thought.

Because, you see, if we really were to recall the things that He said regarding Himself, we would realize that we have become far removed from the words of our Jesus.

"You believe in God, believe also in me.
"I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."
"My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow me."
"I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live."
"I am the door. If anyone enters by Me, he will be saved, and will go in and out and find pasture."
"He who believes in Me, as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water."
"This is the work of God, that you believe in Him whom He sent."

All these things confound me as I read them, for I realize that so quickly I begin to view my life as lived by a set of beliefs, rather than a total sacrifice to one man... the Holy man Jesus. So easily, I take my eyes off of the infinite and eternal eyes and person of Jesus, and instead become obsessed with the things that He said and the things that He did. I take what others say about Him as truth, even above what He says about Himself. I don't really go against the mold at all, I just follow the status quo, even though I swore I wouldn't. I even build routine around my life to keep myself safe and comfortable, using the way things should be done as a measure of my life, instead of "leaving my ways, my objects, myself, and taking his and Him."

And eventually, I lose my connection with Him, the raw and real faith of doing what He says because I have built my life around THIS ONE MAN, this Jesus that said over and over to believe IN Him, to follow Him, to obey Him out of love and gratitude for sacrifice. But when I read what He says, I am astonished and always convicted. Jesus seems to say while He walked the earth, "Believe in ME. Not only in my works. Not only in my deeds. Not only in the salvation that God wrought through me on the cross. Not only in the atonement and the fact that you'll be with me when you die. But believe in ME. In my entire essence of being. In my personhood, in my own self."

George Macdonald says, "No opinon, I repeat, is Christianity, and no preaching of any plan of salvation is the preaching of the glorious gospel of the living God. Even if your plan, your theories, were absolutely true, the holding of them with sincerety, the trusting in this or that about Christ, or in anything he did or could do-- the trusting in anything but Himself, His own living self-- is still a delusion."

We have spent much of our time and effort in believing about Him, instead of really believing in Him.

This is troubling to me. I want to believe in Him. I want to be able to partake of what He lived and what he embodied when He walked here. I want to obey Him without question and leave anything and everything to do what He said and believe! I want to move past my mind and intellect and opinions and theories and know Jesus as a person that lives and moves and breathes in my spirit! To know Him as he yearns to be known.

Just a little something to make you think.

B

I feel the weight of everything today.

Of the entire Kingdom.

Of the love of Jesus and the power of simply believing in Him.

Believe in Him!

Believe IN HIM!

In the man Jesus.

That's it.

That's the gospel.

He will set you free.

He is the way.

He is the truth.

He is the life.

He unites everything.

He removes all barriers.

He will heal your heart.

He will make you perfect in Him.

He is the Only One.

He is Love.

He is God.

To The One Who Has Been Crushed by Depression

Five o'clock brought my clanging alarm and the misty, dark early hours. I stumbled out of bed. The cat rubbed against my leg as I put the tea kettle on. Too early, Soxy. I wiped the mascara out from under my eyes from the night before.

The mountain loomed gray against the narrow strip of pink light in the east. I drove to school as the light slowly emerged, flooding the gray world in pink light. Here, the rain misted softly against the windshield and the wipers on my new car no longer squeaked. They slid silently as the morning hung there in expectation, waiting for the sun.

I thought about a year ago, about when my world seemed to be ripping apart at the seams. About when my heart seemed to die and its life sink into the soil, never to be re-won. I thought about the voices I heard in my head and the crushing weight of despair that some days wouldn't let me out of my bed, that took away my will to live and my motivation to love and be myself. The knowledge that I was an abomination, a horrible person, that I was guilty. I remember feeling separated from everyone around me, despite their efforts to understand and help me. I remember feeling that there was no way out.

And so I lost everything. I lost my job, I lost my motivation for school and quit. I didn't know how to cope with things that had never caused me stress before. I knew, somehow, that this resistance could turn out for my good, that I was made for greatness someday, but I didn't know how any part of this could possibly turn out for my good. I didn't even know what to call it, how to label it.

It took me the good part of a year to figure out how to recover, to create an atmosphere for myself that was safe and allowed me to live without the anxiety and fear that had crept in seemingly unawares. I had heard so many responses from so many people in regard to my "depression." I had heard, "You are seeking attention," to "You need to get on your face before God and ask Him to heal you, and He will," to "What did you do to allow this thing in?" I felt what it was like to cry out for empathy and compassion for someone, anyone that would just tell me that I was accepted for who I was, even with the things that I was experiencing.

The fact was, the word depression did no justice to the crushing weight of death I felt threatening me constantly, in the morning when I woke up to the sweet surrender of sleep at night. The voices that I heard in that season, both in my head and from almost everyone around me, reinforced my belief that I was guilty, deep down to my very soul. I deserved nothing. I was nothing.

And here I am, a year later, and I am healed. I have felt depression flee from me so far I know that it is never coming back. I have seen my heart change from being broken and full of fear that I would never be able to be normal again to fully alive and functioning the way it was supposed to. I have felt the Lord's mercy both in the midst of my fear and on the other side of my fear, where only joy lives. And I stand here, fully knowing that there is a place where depression is no more. There is freedom from the constant stream of fear that so easily overwhelms us. There comes a moment when all the lies that have plagued you-- sometimes for your whole life-- are revealed and you see the truth about yourself-- that you are made strong and powerful.

If you only knew how powerful you were... You would be unstoppable.

The truth is... nobody really has it right. Some say that depression is normal and is just a part of life. Other say that it is an illusion or that it is because of something you've done wrong to deserve it, Some say you should just get yourself out of it.

But the truth is not any of those things. The truth is that you are SO loved right in the place where you are. On your bed, unable to get up to go to work. In your living room, watching TV while every fiber of your being hurts with a pain that is so much deeper than your skin and bones. When you're unable to explain to your friends why you don't want to spend time around people, why you can't see them right now. When you are totally unable to see yourself or anything in your life in a positive way. When you look at yourself in the mirror and see worthlessness. When you self-medicate with alcohol, TV, anything to numb the crushing weight on your chest that threatens to crush your very soul.

The truth is that you've been misunderstood and judged for something that isn't your fault by people who are ignorant and don't know the effect of their attitudes and words.

And it's that you're beautiful, Beloved one, even in the midst of the bloody battle that you're fighting.

I just thought you should know.

The Mountain

I had a dream about the mountain last night.

 

Everyone saw the cloud that had crashed into the summit like a white train wreck. It hovered there, mysterious and beautifully fearful. I didn't feel fear when I looked at it, at least not the kind of fear that paralyzes your breath and reminds you that you're nothing. It was the kind of fear that made you feel very small indeed, but as if that meant something, to be small.

 

They were saying all around me, "Don't go up there, you'll surely die from the storm," and, "It's unpredictable and you don't know what you'll encounter up there." "It's dangerous."

 

But I knew, compellingly and assuredly, that I had to go.

 

North and Middle Sisters (Faith and Hope) from the Summit

 

 

I thought, as I drove up the pass, that if I hadn't met the man Jesus and become so compelled by Him that I gave Him all my dreams, I would have probably ended up spending a majority of my life on a mountain. It was something with which I could become obsessed with little to no effort. It made me feel alive.

 

The last 1500 feet of the climb, from the false summit was as steep as you could get without having to technical climb. It was all tallis, and while the dog sprang up the incline with ease, I was stopping every ten sliding steps and trying to get some oxygen into my body. I looked up at the summit, her massive form red and I felt my own weakness speak against me. "You don't have enough strength." But I had waited too long to stop this close to conquering her. This wasn't just a climb to test my strength of body or will... this was hand-to-hand combat with my fear.

 

Broken Top from the Summit

 

 

I knew now that all my longing for the mountains, all my reaching for wildness and freedom that I found in the high places, they were just shadows of the longing that I had for Him. And really, I could spend all my life, all my passion and energy trying to conquer the mighty ones of the earth, to try and get a little bit closer to the heavens, to really feel something in my chest other than the numbness that the world is so familiar with. But I knew now, somehow, that if I pursued my love of the wild, if I gave myself to pursuing the beauty of the earth and of my God manifested in His creation, then in the end I would come up short. I would have lost it all, but for nothing.

 

Mt Bachelor from the False Summit

 

Descending the Mountain (and very tired)

 

 

Really, what I have always been searching for is Him. To seek Him, to give Him my dreams that I hold in my heart, to seek not beauty but the Source of it, that had become everything. Of course I still love the mountains. I love them deeply. But they are now the lower forms of beauty, the higher forms those which can only be touched with an experience of the heart.

 

When my eyes are opened and I am like a blind man seeing men like trees for the first time, I can see that the thing I was searching for in the dark was actually Light. I can see that He becomes everything, higher and wider of a love than I ever knew existed before.

 

Teardrop Lake (The highest lake in Oregon).

 

 

It's true I have longing, dreams, things I want to do while I'm on the earth. I want to make my mark. I want to live breathlessly and without regret. Our dreams aren't worthless. They all cost us something. We spend endless hours thinking about them, pouring over them, loving them, speaking kind words to them.

 

Sometimes, they are the most precious things we dreamers have.

 

But let it cost me something to lay my life at His feet. Let my jar of perfume break over His feet and let the extravagance of my dreams fill the room, not cheap trinkets that I didn't want anyway. Let my sacrifice be left on Him as a fragrance, a reminder of a life broken and poured out, a sacrifice that cost me something.

 

This month I finally climbed my mountain. It's funny, really, because I feel as if it's the start of a time of many more mountains being conquered... not all of them with snow and a 4,600 foot incline.

 

"This is the season," I thought as I stepped onto the crater of the summit, "for courage."

 

At the summit

 

 

 

 

 

Healing

Sometimes life doesn't feel like an exciting adventure. Sometimes it just feels like a bloody battle that you'll be lucky to survive with all your limbs intact.

Sometimes family members aren't perfect. Sometimes they change and aren't able to function like they used to. Sometimes depression and addiction and other not-perfect things show up and we can't ignore them. Sometimes all your fancy spirituality and knowledge about God's love turns into one word: stay.

I knew depression has had some say in my family in the past, but when it struck my father and then tried to wrap it's sticky claws around me, I found my fight and I didn't relent until victory came. I still haven't. There's no other option.

When I leave for work in the wee hours of the morning, I can see them through a crack in their bedroom door. He used to get up before me, in the old days. Now he sleeps longer and longer. I do care, you know. I care too much. Is that allowed? I don't know. Momma says someday that when I have babies, I'll find a new kind of strength. I hope so.

Something happened to me two weeks ago. I don't know what it was, but I felt the heaviness of an orphan lift off my shoulders and a new time come upon me...almost as if I couldn't have helped but step into it.

It's as if the lens flipped and I was staring at everything I once hated as disappointing and bitter as beautiful. I saw the people I once feared as my destiny. I went for a walk yesterday and I could see the sun, like they way you see something and see it with all your senses. I smelled the color on the wheat and I tasted the air that was filled with tangy sweetness. I saw everything, but no fear entered my chest. I looked for signs of my old friend Fear, but all I saw were roses. They tinted the lenses of my eyes so that they saw everything new, and my mind thought only good thoughts, ones that made me feel as if life wasn't only a bloody battle to be fought, but a slow dance to be savored, a rich fullness that demanded to be tasted.

Worship School is finally finished and I have at last returned home from Redding. To be honest, I'm not sure where to start.  How to explain a whole year's worth of pain, years worth of pain erased from my heart as I look into the face of the One who truly knows and loves me. So much torment that has bruised and battered my heart left when God somehow took my old heart and replaced it completely with a new heart. All the things that have been running circles in my mind, things that made me sure I was crippled enough to never walk properly again, they all melted away as I lay in front of the King.

And I'll say it. I'm a believer in healing.

And how could I not? I have seen it. I have beheld things that don't make sense, that didn't make sense to me until they manifested themselves right in front I'd my face. I have seen my prayers happen. I have seen the impossible. I have seen my own heart made new again by the love of my God, who has never left me, not once, not even in the middle of my deepest torment when I couldn't see or feel Him.

So...

Life sometimes feels like a bloody battle. It sometimes feels like there's no way out. But I have seen the eyes of the One who loves me. I have heard His call in my heart. And I know that there is healing for all who are sick. I know that the despair that comes isn't meant to last. I know that He is for me. And I know that He came for me and delivered me from all my enemies.

And whatever your enemy may be, He will do the same for you.

Take courage, dear heart.

The Change Of Season

I can't believe it.

It's been over three years since I've started this blog.

When I began to write, I was full of girlish insecurities, restless wanderings, pain that I never thought was curable. I wrote to process, to find out what was going on inside of my poor heart that I was completely out of touch with. I wrote to seek, look for something I knew I wanted but couldn't quite express.

I travelled to Australia because I felt the distant call to go, somehow, though I didn't know why.
I found and left the best family I've known in the eastern suburbs of Sydney.
My heart broke when I let go of that season.
I came back and have traversed many paths available to me, including music, nursing school, worship leading, and retail work (my least favorite by far).
I've moved to Portland and then back to the place I started, Monmouth.

As I write this, it is becoming apparent to me that everything will soon change again for me. The finances to continue in nursing aren't coming in, and I feel the Lord gently day that it's ok, that He has something much more incredible planned than I could ever plan for myself. Do I know what the next step is? Absolutely not. Am I worried? No. I feel His hand in my life and I trust Him, even as He shuts doors.

As if it were perfect timing, Amanda and I are leaving in 24 hours to go to Redding, CA for worship school at Bethel Church. I don't know if I will ever really come back to this place. It feels different, this time. As if my heart will forever rest in another place. Like the time is shifting, and I must be swept along with Him or be left behind. I feel as if this is the last post I will write from an old mind, as if I will be reborn, am already being reborn as I write these words.
So many things are revealing themselves in my heart. Truly, there is something great coming for those who have asked for it.

I write these words a woman. I don't know when it happened, but these pages hold the transformation from a starry eyed girl to a clear eyed woman. Not that I don't experience heartache or confusion, but I can see that even in the worst of pain, God is good, and more than that, He is in love with me. Me! Of all the crazy things to realize...

Thank you for sticking with me on this journey. I cannot wait to see where the next month will take me, and I am excited and expectant for what's to come.

First Love Part 1

I thought that He was dead.

See, it had just been so long since I had heard from Him. Months. Years, even, but I have forgotten now what the former days were like. Some memories shine brighter than others, but the ones that glow with truth are the ones with Him.

Running together in the field. Laughing until tears rolled down our cheeks and we couldn't breathe. Singing songs of love, first me to Him, and then Him to me. Sitting by the fire in the dead of night.

But those things had faded along the way, somehow, and I was left only with a shadow of Him. He didn't say He was going away, I just woke up one morning and He wasn't there.

And that was the day Fear came to live here instead.

Fear was a bitter friend. I tried everything I knew how to make him leave. I tried shouting at him, cursing him, pleading for my life, but he would not leave, and I conceded that perhaps he was meant to live with me for a reason, to grow my desire for my Love, perhaps. But instead, my desire began to wither and my heart began to forget what Love looked and felt like.

I wrote to my Love. I pleaded with Him to come back, to tell me where He had gone and why He had left me. I wondered if my love had been too weak to make Him stay. I wondered what I had done to make Him go. He was all I could think about, but He seemed distant, a memory that became more foggy as the days passed.

People would come to my house and ask me why I didn't just tell Fear to go, if I didn't like him so much. They said that maybe it was a blessing in disguise, being able to live with someone instead of being alone. I told myself I would rather be alone, would rather die than live one more day like this.

Sometimes people were kind, and would bring me letters from my Love. They did not tell me anything about where He had gone or why He had left. They just handed them to me with tears in their eyes, as if they had seen Him.

All He spoke of in the letters was our love. I would weep as I read them, as my heart was torn with longing for Him, and would keep them in a box above my fireplace. He only said He loved me so much He couldn't take it. He said He longed for me like all the longing of all the lovers in all of history combined. He said that He couldn't wait for the next time we could be together, that He could hold me in His arms.

The days turned into months. I had forgotten that He was good, the highest form of beauty.

The months turned into years. I had forgotten He was alive. He had become a shadow of the past in my head, a fantasy, they said. They said He wasn't coming back, that He had more important things to do.

One day Fear hit me, a crisp blow that left a clear bruise on the skin just beneath my collarbone. Carefully concealed from all eyes. Just where my heart rested beneath my ribs.

I left that morning. I walked out the front door with the coffee pot boiling on the stove and the fire in the fireplace. I didn't even bring my jacket. Anything was better than this. Death was better.

I knew I would die in the wilderness. I knew that I would. But I would die a worse death without love.

And I started walking.

A voice flickered like candlelight across the face of a the waters in my mind. Come and find me, it said.

I dismissed it and kept walking.

Messages to Mr. Brian Stoltzfus (A memoir by Jim Reams)

Hurry! Make haste!
Dust the mats! Sweep the floor!
Put on the kettle on for tea!
The Golden Man is coming!
Did you not see Him walking down the road?
Flowers sprung into blossom as He passed by,
And all darkness fled before His face.
And I knew.
I knew He was coming here,
To this place.

I had only time to arrange the chairs, and put on a good shirt, and there He was.
We sat together, He and I.
He did not speak with words. He did not need to. One glance into His eyes, into His shining countenance which was like deep well of golden light, and I knew all things.
I found myself stammering and babbling like a child, but He did not seem to mind. I wept, and knelt at His feet, and touched them. It did not feel strange to me. It felt like home.
There were deep scars, but they were pink, like roses, and beautiful, like new life. And The Golden Man, Jesus, laid His hand on my head. I wad broken, re-made all in an instant.
Then He was gone. Yet His peace still lingers. But He is coming your way! Be ready! You can see Him from a long, long way. A great host of swallows, and butterflies is following Him.
And music! Yes.
The whole earth had broken into song.

«««»»»

Did He come? Did you speak to Him?
I feel sure He will visit you soon. Listen for the quiet knock on your door. Leave your front gate open.

«««»»»

It's all coming back to me now. I was in a state of shock there for a while. Blundering blindly into bliss, you might say. Ha ha!
But it was Him, alright.
The same Jesus I met when I was a young man, except even more glorious.
But I had forgotten His face. I had forgotten what His Presence felt like. I had forgotten that He is holy.
Seriously though, Stoltzfus, I was expecting the Grim Reaper. I have not been feeling very permanent lately. Stomach problems. Fatigue. I was scared.

But instead, here comes the Golden Man, strolling into our driveway. When He touched me, I was healed of many things.
I mean, I think so. He certainly has the power. It's just that now, death and sickness don't really matter. Being with Him is what matters.

«««»»»

Sorry, Brian, I know I'm babbling, but there's more to it.
I had let the world beat me down until I lost hope. I was ashamed of Christ.
Not because He is not true, but because I was not true. I listened to the song of the world, and believed that I was useless. I once set out to change the world, to make it a better place, but the world had fangs. It had destroyed me.

«««»»»

Sorry to keep rambling on, but here's the thing, Stoltzfus: He did speak, came to think of it. You may think I am crazy, insane; but if so, then I much prefer this insanity to the cold logic of the world.

But as I knelt, and touched His feet, He said,
"Satan has desired to sift thee like wheat, but I prayed for thee..."

That really got to me! Sift me? The evil one had kicked my ass up and down the block! But He prayed for me? The very Son of God prayed for me?!

«««»»»

But He was really here! Just come over some time and sit in that chair, and we can have coffee, or beer. He was sitting in that lawn chair you sold me, the one with the yellow cushion. You can still feel Him if you sit there. Peace from the Golden Man.

«««»»»

What, Brian?
No, He wasn't really golden, like the statue of the Golden Logger on the capitol building. That is just the impression left on the mind. You know how scientists say that you don't really see things as they are, but you only see the various light waves reflecting off of them?
So then you say that the grass is green and sky is blue. I guess that's how it works with Him. The writers of the bible were always using words like golden, crystal, adamant. Now I see why.

«««»»»

Yes. Of course everyone is saying I'm crazy. I've gone off of the deep end. Well, they are mistaken. The only time I have ever been of sound mind is when I walked with Jesus.
And I'm not afraid of them anymore. He took away my fear. I want to sit at His feet again, soon.

«««»»»

I respect your opinion, of course Stolzfus, but the Truth is the Truth. I'm through with denying Him. I still suggest that you leave your gate open in case He knocks on your door.

«««»»»

Well, I had also forgotten the message that God gave me to sing in my youth. Jesus Christ is coming back! He will judge all things in righteousness. Just keep this in mind, Brian:
If the love of God is so deep and powerful, and amazing, what must His wrath be like?
Anyway, He's the only reason I'm writing you. I haven't written in months. Come to think of it, Stoltzfus, the only reason I ever did anything creative was because of Jesus Christ.

«««»»»

If you really think I'm insane, why do you keep writing back to me? Not that I mind. Yes. I waited for Him every day for a week, but did not see Him, until I was driving to town. He was walking along the highway. A rainbow halo followed Him.
I could not believe that the Golden Man, Christ, the Son of God would condescend to ride in my dirty old Jeep. But He did. I was afraid to look at Him; but for the first time in years, I actually enjoyed driving!

Yes. I didn't care how many cars were rudely tailgating me. I didn't care that I was out of place in this world. I sat up a little straighter in the Jeep seat.

He was with me.
He had always been with me.

Sincerely, Your Single Friend

Dear dating/engaged/married friend,

I am writing you this letter to tell you a little of what my heart is feeling about the time of life that we're in...er... rather, the time if life that you're in. Please have patience with me, this isn't easy to open up about. The heart is  so tender, and mine is just adjusting to the changes that have happened lately.

Last weekend I saw one of my oldest friends walk down the aisle and pledge her love and life to the man who she will share her forever with. She was radiant, brilliant in beauty and grace. I cried (because, of COURSE it was the most moving thing to see one of my dearest friends blossom into a woman). I danced. I celebrated. I thought about all our history together. The late nights talking about our futures, the tears of broken hearts, the laughter of discovering love. And now, there I was, watching it all unfold before my very eyes... the future.

And then this morning it hit me.

All of my friends are in relationships.

I can see my mother roll her eyes and say, "Don't exaggerate, honey, not all your friends."

...Yep, pretty much every single one.

Don't worry, this isn't an embarrassing rant about being single. Because, see, I'm not really so focused on that particular aspect of this stage of life.

This is a revelation that time truly is changing for me...for both of us.

See, I'm not worried so much that I'll miss out on having a relationship. What actually puts fear in me is watching those I have grown closest to in my life move on, and not be able to understand them anymore. My fear is watching you fall in love, get married, have babies, become a wife and mother, and not be able to relate to you anymore. To grow distant not by choice, but just from life. To not be able to talk about the things we used to chatter on about all day. To not be able to offer help or advice because I just plain don't know. To feel distant. To feel different. To feel like I'm not needed anymore.

It's not a man in my life I miss, you see. It's the days when I knew I was needed by my friends. When I knew we would always relate because I knew we'd always be in the same stage of life at the same time. To feel like comrades in the thick of battle, not like an outsider standing in the sidelines while everyone else gets to play the game.

So be patient with me, my dear friend.  I know my time will come, but The times, they're a changing, and my little heart just needs some time to catch up.

Sincerely,
Your single friend.

To All The Dreamers and The Old Souls...

Some days, memories linger on the edge of my consciousness. Some are sweet like honey as they fall into my mind, and some leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Some that resurrect feelings of hope, and some that cause me to clench my fists in desperation. Some are from my past, pulling me back to a time that I would have forgotten if it weren't for the memories that are so real I can still see them now. Some are from my future, calling me forward to a time that I have never seen but somehow hunger for. Either way, I am surrounded by memories on all sides.

We all live in the present, or so we're told. We are told that this moment now, that we experience, is what is true, is what is real. We know that it is the year of 2016, that it's April now, because the lilacs bloom and the Oregon natives can finally be seen wearing their shorts.

But I must admit it... The present is not always where I am living. Sometimes, I am more present in my past or my future than in the moment I am in, the moment that is the most important. I often spend my days reveling in what was or dreaming about what's to come than I do looking at the person in front of me and really seeing them and hearing them. I know that my past has the ability to shape me, and my future has the ability to lead me, but I give them so much power over right now.

I yearn for the grace and strength to be able to live here. To be able to love fully, not remember love as it was before or as it will be. I know Love Himself calls to us from the past or future, but most of all from the beautiful and perfect Present. I have a deep-down feeling that if a generation of people can start to cultivate this type of resting into their days, than everything will change. I think real Love dwells in the Present, and that, after all, is what we are all searching for.

I love memories. They are gifts. They are truly a wonder to be able to experience. And dreaming? That's one of the greatest gifts I have ever known. But I must give this moment it's proper place. First.

To all my dreamers who love to dream,
And to my old souls who love to remember,
Know that you are free.

Love, 
B

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.