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

L I M B O

It's a strange feeling, being up in the air. There is no time, no structure. Even day and night are warped, time-lapsed mutations of normalcy. Limbo Land, it should be called. I imagine the writer of Inception got his idea from being on a plane and waking up to a makeup plastered hostess asking him if he wanted champagne or peanuts or whatever they serve on first class.

I used to feel like I had no place up here. I felt lost, like my mind was drifting somewhere in the fifth dimension like a price of lint floating in the dusty living room Saturday morning. I don't feel like that now. Not so lost in limbo land... Or at least not so uncomfortable with it. I used to be unable to sit in my seat without thinking of my destination. "If only I would get there already," I'd think moronically.

Really, limbo land removes your consciousness temporarily of where you are in the span of your life, or maybe the part of your brain responsible for the awareness of time and space just starts to short circuit when you get up closer to the Moon. I sleep for two hours and wake up to find the sun rising, or conversely, sleep for nine and wake to find night. I imagine that when we land, anything could have changed. It could be 2010 and maybe we time warped accidentally and I'm actually 17 and I have never even heard of Australia besides Finding Nemo. Maybe everything will become the inverse of itself and I will be going home to Sydney instead of Oregon. Maybe I'm never going to land, stuck up here in a brilliant, fluffy orange and pink dream (minus the leg cramps). It could be I forget, somehow, in short bursts, where it is I am going and where it is that I have been. How long has it been since we've left Earth? I don't know, for it all seems to turn into this dastardly, never-ending flight that spans your whole life but breaks itself up to appear in bursts of transition. It's like time simply had its own way with matter up here, manipulating it as it wants.

I cried when we lifted off the ground and I saw the earth that I loved slipping away from my sight. I never thought it was possible to love a land so much. She's beautiful, you see. She changes people, the Great Southland of the Holy Spirit. God uses her bright beaches and her stormy skies and her red lands to remind us that life is not to be planned, it's to be lived. To be savoured. She helped me love again. He used her to help me feel again. I never wish to be apart from her...

I cannot fear the coming seasons or the things I must face, for even in the warp of time and space, the land between lands, the air where no man really dwells and yet seems to dwell perpetually, He lives, and He does not change as our fickle hearts do, but is faithful to the end of days. He is here, but He is also in You, as He promised from the very beginning. He is closer than the hand on your face, closer to you than your own mind and your own heart. He will stand with you if you will ask Him, He will help you to stand to your feet and fight darkness with love and the light that you hold inside. He will help you to sing the songs that tear down strongholds and make new life spring up from what once was dead.

...Even if you're in Limbo Land.