John chapter 5 opens on a scene in Jerusalem... a pool. Near what was called the Sheep Gate of the city, and the pool was called Bethesda. The characters? A wide array of what the Scripture refers to in the text as "invalids." These included the blind, the lame, and the paralyzed. {Note: at the time, these people believed that every so often at this pool, an angel of the Lord would come down and stir the waters, and whoever entered the waters first after they were stirred would be healed.}  

We zoom in and notice the man Jesus noticed; a man who had been an invalid and unable to walk for THIRTY EIGHT YEARS. Oh that's a long time. Perhaps 38 years of laying down. Having to constantly rely on others for help. 38 years that was likely accompanied by, as many chronic physical illnesses are, emotional depression and even despair at times. 

Jesus asks him the obvious in verse 6, "Do you want to me healed?" Sometimes I wonder why Jesus asked him that. I mean, if I was crippled for 38 years I think a desire for healing would go without saying. But I actually love that Jesus asked him this. The man's answer was not a simple "YES," however. When asked if he wanted to be healed he went on to explain and describe all the reasons he hadn't been healed before...

1) He had no one to put him into the pool when the water was stirred up; and 

2) Every time he was about to get into the waters, someone went in before him. 

I can understand his frustration. His opportunities for healing, according to his understanding, came and went each time someone else - someone quicker, more able-bodied, perhaps someone with more people willing to help them - beat him to the pool. He was helpless. Or so he thought. 

Jesus' reply? "Get up, take up your bed, and walk" {verse 8}. 

"And AT ONCE the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked" {verse 9}. 

Tomorrow we leave for our annual high school camp. Can't believe that week is here AGAIN. Feels like the year in between last summer's camp and tomorrow just flew by. We're going to load up four buses tomorrow with a bunch of high schoolers, and take them to the middle of nowhere for six days, KNOWING we're gonna have a ton of fun, and KNOWING we serve a God who loves them each and is so hoping to capture, re-capture, or sustain their attention on him. There will be many who are spiritual "invalids," in a sense. Those who don't yet know Jesus as their personal Savior; those who claim to walk with Christ but whose lives, according to the evidence, aren't being lived for Jesus; and others who want to know and follow God, but who have been so deeply wounded in their lives that their own hurt is the biggest obstacle to understanding the HOPE they have in a loving Savior.

The blind. 

The ones whose eyes have been blinded by the enemy thus far (2 Corinthians 4:4), but who are about to become gloriously wide-eyed as the grace of Jesus becomes real in their lives!

The lame. 

Those who have allowed their passion, resolve, and obedience in daily decisions to be debilitated by the seemingly more alluring influences and pressures of the world we live in. 

The paralyzed

Those who are so deeply wounded by others, by themselves, by evil, that every relationship/ emotion in their life is clouded and stunted by the hurts that they carry. The hurts they're trying to heal in so many ways. 

Like the man who had been an invalid for 38 years, the invalid life is all that some of our students know. Maybe they've even gotten comfortable being dissatisfied, unloved, disobedient. 

Some students have sought "healing," and wholeness in their lives in so many different ways. Popularity, success, recognition, drugs, alcohol, self-afflicted wounds, relationships, sex, TV, their iPhone, social media, etc. Some have become so desperate and feel so utterly hopeless that the best, most permanent idea they can think of is just to end it all. Figuratively, they could travel from "pool" to "pool," hoping to dip into what they think will solve the emptiness and the hurt once and for all. 

Only to come to camp this week, where I believe Jesus is going to ask the obvious of many students: 

"Do you WANT to be healed?" 

Do you want to be made whole? 

Do you want to live a life of meaning? 

Are you ready for your life to be different? 

True life change won't just happen by accident. Jesus wants our YES; and with that, He can and will, as I've seen many times, truly, deeply overhaul us from the inside out in the most beautiful way. 

Some will answer with excuses... things in they are unwilling to change; sins or habits they don't want to surrender; perhaps they're convinced Jesus doesn't understand that they have MORE hurt than He could ever possibly understand or truly heal; or it's not their fault that they're making bad choices... it's their past, their family, their school, their friends, etc {p.s. In no way am I trying to undermine the influence that broken homes, abuse, damaged relationships, etc have on the life of a student. BUT I have seen some adopt a "victim-of-life" mindset that ultimately only cripples them more; and have seen others claim the VICTORY only Jesus gives and live not as a victim to their past but a victor in spite of it}.

And to all those students who come ready, who come broken, who come crippled... Jesus will say, "IT'S ME. I'm your healer. Don't worry that you can't get into the pool. I AM." And then, by steps of faith, those students will be called to get up. To rise up. To go public with their decision. To be brave. To make the conscious choice to make conscious choices every day to turn to Jesus for their salvation, healing, fulfillment, wholeness, newness.  And to walk. To take action, perhaps physical action. To live in light of being now healed, restored, saved, set apart. OH GLORY! 

One final thing I find interesting in the story is that later, in verse 14, Jesus goes and finds this newly healed man in the temple. Jesus said to him, "See, you are well! Sin no more, that nothing worse may happen to you." Jesus didn't JUST meet this man's need for physical healing. Jesus always went for the heart. Knowing that this man's new ability to walk was not the only thing he needed. Jesus knew that the man would once again become an "invalid," spiritually crippled, ill, unwell, debilitated, if he continued to live in sin. Jesus' heart for us is not JUST physical freedom (though He IS a God of healing, I truly believe that) but spiritual, emotional freedom as we walk in His light, His will, and according to His ways for our lives. 

Praying this coming week that some students realize, maybe for the first time, that they are spiritually crippled, but don't have to stay that way. Praying students' eyes are opened. Praying some of them gain such an incredible passion for the Lord that, upon Jesus' offer to take over their lives, they can't help but GET UP. And WALK. And KEEP WALKING. With Him. For a lifetime. 

Oh Come, Lord Jesus. Go before us and with us tomorrow and this next week. Amen. 

The Abundance of NOW

The now. The right here. My today. The present. This place, spot, season I'm trying to live in. Not the past, not the future, not the "what if," but the NOW. For everything that it is and perhaps even everything that its not. A combination of influences have set in motion a desire to look for the abundance in my life... the good ... the rich ... the deeply beautiful, blessed things that are true gifts when I'm willing to see them. Ann Voskamp's One Thousand Gifts, combined with some dreams and desires the Lord has stirred up in me, combined with the incredible beauty of this sun-stretch of weather we've had lately, have been instruments used in awakening a piece of my soul that is tuned in to the abundance. The abundance of the now. 

From early in the morning, on the days I choose to get out of bed before the hubs and the doggy... and I go downstairs and pull back all the curtains. And the light pours in. Floods. Glows. As if it had been waiting ... like a child asking for permission and finally being told, "YES. Yes." Light. Air. Day. I'm up! Then the dance of the sprinklers. I have a weird obsession with sprinklers - the sights, the sounds, the knowing that it's making my lawn green. Something is getting done. Something is being fed, given life. Even the lawn needs to be "nourished." Me too. Eating breakfast at the table alone and sipping on iced coffee while the house is still quiet doesn't feel lonely; it's a luxury. Like I'm stealing time before a busy day to just be. To fill. To eat. Something I often "forget," or don't prioritize on my busier days // truly a terrible habit. I'm trying to daily remind my body that it NEEDS nourishment. Spiritually, from God's Word. And physically, from food. Eating whole, good foods. Less sugar, less refined carbs. More fruit, more vegetables, more water with lemon + mint. Making lunch happen. Eating dinner when it's time. Eating a good breakfast. Going on walks... long walks. Time to breathe, time for Michael and I to connect and catch up. The daily. The soul-care. 

But what about the places where the abundance is harder to "see"? Our weekly, sometimes daily conversations about our financial goals... the slow pace... the "doing it right," the Dave Ramsey Way. The getting out of debt (oh I can hardly wait!). The discipline. The choosing. The knowing and remembering and believing that God has blessed us; provided EVERYTHING we need and more; and we are in a wonderful spot in our marriage as we decide NOW to make wise choices with our finances that we know will affect our future. I wish we could get new cars, or buy a house, etc etc. But that's now our NOW right now. We are not "rich," of course... and yet we are. We have an abundance. A good, full, fun, incredible life and we can recognize God's gifts and provision at every turn. The walks we take with our dog in the mornings or evenings, both free of cost and priceless in value ... in a neighborhood we love; with charm and trees and the park and the just-right-length of walking loop that makes us sweat just a little but not too much - that's our abundance. Our daily gift, should we choose to unwrap and receive it. Not knowing how our living situation will pan out over the next few months can tend to creep in and threaten to dampen the gratitude; steal the sense of abundance; or thwart the sense of joy that comes from living right here right now. But only if I choose to let it. I can re-trace my steps and God's hand of provision throughout my ENTIRE life; seeing and remembering that He has always provided me with a home... somewhere to make a home. I trust Him. I trust Him. I do. 

But the biggest surplus, the biggest abundance, the most endless blessing. The knowing and loving Jesus. Lately the old old hymn has just been flooding through my mind and heart, cyclically, repeatedly. Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus. Just to take Him at His Word. Just to rest upon His promise. Just to know, 'Thus saith the Lord.' Oh it's so sweet. To walk to Jesus. To have walked with Jesus since I was a little girl. I love Him. I have resolved to follow Him for the rest of my life. The sweetness that comes from choosing to recognize His faithfulness to me, to me, for the past 25 years nearly brings tears to my eyes. That He sees me; dreamt dreams for me to walk in before I was even capable of imagining an idea; cherishes and prizes me not because I'm worthy but because I'm HIS. His goodness. His protection. His calling on my life. His blessing. His leading. His faithfulness. His power to transform. I can barely stand to think about how much more deeply I might love and know Him when I'm 50... 60...70...80. To know and walk with Jesus for a life time. Oh the abundant life. It's real. I choose that one. 

Wedding Reflections {One Year: part 1}

I'm about to get pretty dang sentimental up in here. Not even sorry about it. Our ONE YEAR anniversary is today, people. How did this happen? {I know everyone says "it goes by so fast," and I never really doubted it. But SERIOUSLY. One year has passed} 

Beside our wedding photos - which I still LOVE, but have yet to make a wedding album, don't wanna rush these things - what remains from May 25, 2012, is a string of memories. Mental snapshots. Personalized polaroids in my heart. I'm picturing the way Jim and Pam from The Office snap pictures with an invisible camera of moments they want to remember together. Ever since I was young, I've had a vividly photographic memory, and God has been so so good to help preserve some of the sweetest moments from my mind and heart from that incredible and overwhelming day. After dreaming about my wedding day since I was a little, little girl, I always wondered how it would feel to ACTUALLY be the bride. After that day came and went, it was hard to process the whirlwind of faces, moments, and feelings that flooded my heart. Finally, finally I'm sitting down to really, really process and document some of the most vivid portions of that day.

I remember the day before the wedding. My soon-to-be mother in law, Lori, hosted a beautiful bridesmaids luncheon. I remember that I was running late to it. My sister called to ask where I was because almost everyone was there except me. Selfishly, i thought, "Can I seriously be late to this? Like classified as LATE? I'm the bride. I think they wait for me to start." Anyway. I was stressed. Don't judge. Or do. It's in the past! They affirmed me over a delicious lunch and I felt filled to the brim with blessing. Then we all got our nails done. At one point I sent my sister to go get me coffee AND sandals - i was nervous I had lost the gold sandals I wanted to take on my honeymoon. So she took my debit card to Fred Meyer, in the pouring rain, to buy me new sandals. I loved them. This was just one instance in which I sent her to do errands for me. She was the best. I'll gladly return the favor one day for her. 

I remember the night before the wedding. After the rehearsal dinner was over. I was finally home, to spend my last night with my family. Before Michael left, we sat in the living room with my parents. Feeling anxious. My mom read Scripture over us/ to us and prayed with us. An incredible special memory. 

That same night, I was in my room, putting final touches on my honeymoon packing probably. Took a look in the mirror, and told my sister and mom, "I think I want to wear my hair like THIS tomorrow," showing them kind of how I wanted it. "THIS" what not the original plan. "THIS" is not what my hairdresser had practiced or what I had envisioned with my wedding dress during months prior. The plan was a loose but high top knot. Simple and elegant. Kind of ballerina-esque. Nope. Not anymore. New plan: low bun with some volume and my bangs swept to the side. Sure. Let's wing it. Thankfully when my stylist arrived at the house the next day, all I had to say to described the new "THIS" were a few words. She's kind of a mind reader. And brilliant. I loved my hair. 


I remember waking up the morning of the wedding. The day was here (also, it was a BEAUTIFUL day; it had rained all week and we had been praying for great weather for pictures. Thankful). And I. Felt. Miserable. So sick. Started feeling sick during my rehearsal dinner and up until I went to sleep, planning to "sleep it off." Nice try, McFly. I think the nerves - not to get married but just for the wedding event itself, with all the excitement/emotion/people - got to me. I internalize stress, that's not uncommon for me. I had just hoped this day would be an exception. I got up to have some breakfast, but had to go lay back down soon after. My wedding morning was spent in my bed, with my sister and my dear friend Annie sitting there with me, reading magazines and thinking about non-stressful things. Finally my sister suggested that we pray, so she prayed over me and I seriously started feeling better. What a blessing. I sipped on a Starbucks triple espresso ever so slowly, trying not to upset my stomach. I think I had two coffees brought to me that day with custom happy-wedding-day notes from my baristas. So sweet. Too bad I didn't/ couldn't finish the coffees. The plan was to take it one moment at a time, so I did. 

I remember eating snacks with all my bridesmaids in the kitchen of my parents' house. Jordan bit into a strawberry and there was a worm inside! GAG. She freaked. As would I. We were careful about the strawberries after that. Sometimes when I eat strawberries I still think abut that. 

I remember when the time came to leave the house and head to the church. BFF Liz and I drove in my mom's car. I think my suitcases were probably in there, too. It was the MOST surreal feeling to drive from my house to the church (I drive I've made hundreds of times), but this time knowing I was driving to my WEDDING. And then would leave for my honeymoon. The other day I was driving down Kuebler Blvd and this specific memory came flooding back. Being in the car on my wedding day with Liz. I'm not sure what we talked about. I think she asked me if I was nervous and if I was still feeling sick. I was just thankful she was there.

I remember meeting my wedding coordinator at the doors of the church, ready to go get into my wedding dress and prepare for "first look" pictures with Michael. "Wait, who has my dress?" In the hustle of getting out of the house with 5 bridesmaids, a bride, and my mom, I didn't really even think about my dress. Panic. Okay nevermind, my mom had it (I think). Phew. It's safe. 

I remember my first walk through of the church after it had all been decorated - so special. I think I literally gasped when I saw how beautiful both the reception room and the sanctuary looked. The details were breathtaking. STILL CAN'T BELIEVE how generous SO many people were with their time, creativity, and resources to help make my dream of transforming those spaces come to life. So incredible. I'm so thankful for everyone who gave so much to make that day look and feel so special. Makes me want to go above and beyond to help others with big and small details for their weddings in the future. 

I remember almost being out of the church to go see Michael for our first look. And there was my dad. He hadn't seen me in my dress yet. Chris, my wedding coordinator, and Amy, my photographer's wife, both had a moment of "oh my word, your dad hasn't seen you. Should we make this special? Should we go get Erich to take pictures?" I assured them it was fine and had a special moment seeing my dad, on my way to seeing my almost-husband up on the hill. My dad walked with us, and as I began to walk up the hill on my way to Michael, I noticed my dad walking in almost parallel to me down in the gravel. "Dad, what are you doing?" "I want to take pictures of your first look!" "Dad, no one else is supposed to be here for this moment. Erich will take pictures." That moment makes me misty eyed when I think about it. Up until THIS particular moment in my life, my dad made it his mission to be there for significant moments; to take pictures; to share the joy. His logic this time made perfect sense. That moment, that "not this time, dad," was so symbolic of the transition that was about to take place. When he would place my hand in Michael's. And give me away. Although at the time it was mostly subconscious, it was the first time I really realized that my dad's role in my life was changing. As it was supposed to. It was good. I felt SO bad asking him to leave. It was such a genuine way for him to show that he loved me and didn't want to miss a single beat in helping me remember and cherish this day forever. He was gracious. And we have beautiful pictures of that first look. He was so understanding and respectful of my wishes, but I still love that he wanted to be there in the first place.  

I remember when all my bridesmaids, my mom, my wedding coordinator, junior bridesmaids, EVERYONE had gone downstairs because the ceremony was about to begin. The only ones left were my dad and me. This was our moment. Waiting. And then, my dad went to wait on the landing of the stairs so he could let me know when it was time. Which left me alone. A few precious moments where I simply sat in a chair in the middle of the Sunday school classroom we affectionately refer to as the Triple Room. Staring at the baby blue walls. Rechecking my makeup and hair, maybe. Feeling the weight of those final moments alone. WHOA. And then he came back. And it was time. 

I remember going down and waiting in the lobby. Hearing the music. Watching our friends/ our bridal party walk in and give me excited looks and reassuring smiles. I paced back and forth A LOT. It didn't help that the Sigur Ros song we chose, "Festival," was just building and building and I knew my moment was coming. I think I made Kate Kinney go get me a glass of water, and Katrina reassured me while I paced back and forth, so did my dad. I also told my dad I might poop my pants, and I think he said something like, "you probably shoudn't" or "that would be weird" or something. I was so thankful that Kate and Katrina were the ones there to open the doors for me. To be right there as I prepared to walk down the aisle. 

And then. The doors opened. And my dad and I stood there at the doors about to walk through the most incredible arch of branches that my coordinator, Chris, put there simply because she thought I would like it. She knows me so well. And Festival was building. And there was a specific moment when the song just erupted in magnificence and musical brilliance that we were supposed to start walking. We had at least one "false start" I think, where we leaned forward and realized it wasn't here yet. Everyone was standing, looking at us. And then it began, the BIG PART OF THE SONG. And we walked. Down the aisle. No turning back. 

...to be continued. xoxo

Modesto Reflections

{this is a post i MEANT to write/ post right after our Spring Break Missions trip, back in March. But we've been home for over a month now. Oops. I began it several weeks ago and just haven't been able to make myself finish it yet, not sure why.} 

I'm sitting here in my office. To my left are two boxes of stuff, random stuff, leftover from our Spring Break missions trip last week that I need to go through. To my right is my to-do list and several other things I could/ should be working on. But right here, right in front of me, I'm choosing to to the still tedious, "less productive"  task of writing about our trip. Not the most obvious on my post-trip to-do list. But I feel like I NEED to try to capture even a few thoughts about it while it's still fresh on my brain and heart. Spent a week in California with an amazing group of juniors and seniors, and an awesome group of leaders. So here it goes... a few things I came away with after our week in Modesto. 

My notion trip of how a mission trip "should" go is not worth a whole lot. The last time I was in Modesto (2 yrs ago) I got super sick and spent a large portion of the trip lying down, sleeping, or resting. I was sure this trip was to be my non-weak, redemptive version of a trip to Modesto. Only happiness, only feeling good, and only joy would be my constant companions. Little did I know that grief, loss, and confusion would join me during my time there. While I was down in Modesto, my grandma passed away somewhat unexpectedly. I knew she was sick and knew she might not be alive a whole lot longer, I wasn't prepared for my mom's phone call on day 1 of the trip, telling me that Nana might go home to be with Jesus this week. "This is not a great week to have to cope with loss," I thought selfishly. "This is a joy week, this is a 'be a strong leader' week, not a week for sadness and death."  I mourned and grappled with even the possibility of her passing away after that initial news, and then two days later (Wednesday of our trip) she went home to be with the Lord. In the days and moments that followed the shock of losing a grandmother for the first time, the Lord began to stir in me the strangest, most wonderful dichotomy of both sadness and joy. Sadness to not be with my family back home. Sadness at the idea that I won't see my Nana until I join her in Heaven. Sadness that my birthday this week would be the first birthday that she doesn't give me a card signed, "Love and Prayers, Nana" with a $5 bill and maybe a collectors edition quarter representing one of the 50 states. I cried. A lot. And my friends near me just did an incredible job at sitting there and listening. So often I feel awkward and nervous when I try to comfort people in a time of loss, I panic and wonder what to say. But my husband and my friends showed me that truly the best gift you can give someone in those raw moments is the gift of companionship and listening. They let me eat ice cream, let me cry, prayed for me, and let me be alone when I needed it. 

Jesus is ALIVE
JUST IN CASE I had forgotten, JESUS IS REAL. He is ALIVE and He is alive IN people. Oh my goodness, as I listened to students share and watched them share Jesus with total strangers and served alongside them, I was blown away at how incredible it is to see a high school student believe and grasp that following Jesus really is the best life there is. Their hearts were practically bursting with love FROM JESUS, for people. Love for students their age that they met at Modesto high school, for little children at the trailer park we went to, and for the homeless people they met... I know there's lots of stereotypes in our culture about how lazy, apathetic, and selfish high school students can be. And I've seen plenty of that, trust me. BUT, I also have the incredible privilege to know personally SO many high school students who are defying the stereotypes, living out the love of Jesus, and seeking to know Him more in ways that challenge ME! Seriously, I know some real cool kids. They're amazing. 


It is a GIFT to see fruit in ministry 
This is a concept I processed A LOT during and the trip, and one I've continued to reflect on as I've gotten back. Let me explain it this way... as leaders in high school ministry, we serve and labor all year to help our students understand the importance of following Jesus, falling in love with Jesus, reading the Bible, loving others, and being bold about sharing their faith. Don't get me wrong, I've seen LOTS of fruit in some of my own small group girls throughout the year, seeing them "get it," grabbing hold of what God has for them. It's been such a joy. 
But for some reason (if we're going with the tree/ plant analogy here) if the "all year" seed-planting work served as the "rain" in the growth process, for many of these students their time in Modesto served as the sunlight needed to spark some incredible growth in them {plus, it was literally sunny down there and I don't think that hurt anything}. We got to see them in action, sharing their faith, digging into Scripture, loving one another, and becoming increasingly passionate about Jesus as they witnessed His power! It was almost as if the Lord used that week, in part, to say to us leaders, See, your labor is not in vain. You keep being faithful. You keep loving and discipling these students, keep pointing them to Jesus. Don't confuse your part with mine. You can plant a lot of "seeds," you can water them every week in fact, but don't forget that the actual heart change part is mine. I AM using you in their lives. Be encouraged. You know how you feel watching these students come alive in me?  Revel in same JOY that I find when I see YOU loving me. 

... on mornings

{source}

Nope. This is not how my mornings look. In case you were wondering. 

This is how my mornings look... in my head....when I go to sleep at night and set my alarm for the next day and purposefully plan out all the ambitious things I'm going to do between the moment my head pops off the pillow and the time I head to work. 

Maybe when you saw the title of this post, you rolled your eyes and thought 'Great, another morning person who's going to write about how much they LOVE waking up while it's still dark and do all their best thinking while the world is still asleep.' 

No no, honey. That's not me. Not yet. Maybe one day I'll be able to attest to the beauty of the pre-sunrise life; but today is not that day. Annnnd neither was yesterday. Or, let's see, the day before that. You get it. (Actually, I've started having to/learning to get up extra early on Sunday mornings before church - as I did yesterday - and I must tell you I'm enjoying and appreciating it a little). 

I'm officially: a morning person in training. 

What does this mean? 

It means the morning person in me is still wearing training wheels and pull-ups, drinking my coffee out of a sippy cup {not really} while trying to figure this whole thing out. 

Man. I really have good intentions. Clearly not good enough to achieve my goals of morning greatness and glory. 

A couple weeks ago I started setting my alarm for 7:00 or a little before (I usually don't have to be at the office til 9 or 10)...and then my sleepiness + desire to stay in bed and snuggle with my husband and my puppy kept winning out over my desire to be disciplined and intentional with my morning hours. I'd finally roll out of bed around 7:45...8...8:10...8:20...ahem...8:45. Dangit. 

So...why bother with the mornings? A couple reasons come to mind. 

1. For as long as I can remember when I was growing up, EVERY morning my parents would get up early, whether we were at home or on vacation, and they would spend their "quiet time" with the Lord; poring over Scripture while it was still dark, often times. My mom always plants herself in the living room with her books, journal, and coffee. My dad always spends his cozy, still hour with Jesus in his study/office at home. Sometimes they would share in a prayer time together, which was always equally sweet to observe from where I was eating breakfast or rushing through my morning routing. I'm sure my sister and I interrupted their solitude many times, but they never seemed to mind. Their time with the Lord is not something they are just trying to "check off a list," but rather a necessity. Something they began to do out of need and created into a habit. And to this day, my parents are two of the most devoted, wise, disciplined, servant-hearted, incredible followers of Jesus. I HAVE to believe that their pursuit of Him each day {before everything else begins} has played an undeniable role in developing the depth of their relationships with Jesus - in their individual lives AND in their marriage.

2. God addresses the importance and value of MORNINGS on multiple occasions throughout the Bible. I don't want to ignore that. 

"Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, 

for in you I trust. 

Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul." 

| psalm 143:8 esv|

"O Lord, in the morning you hear my voice;

in the morning I prepare a sacrifice for you and watch."

| psalm 5:3 esv| 

"And rising very early in the morning, while it was still dark, {Jesus} departed and went out to a desolate place, and there he prayed."

| Mark 1:35 esv |

Is the morning the ONLY time I can spend time with Jesus? Of course not. But I get too sleepy at bedtime, usually, and I find myself having a hard time slowing down once the day is started. For as long as I've felt convicted by the Lord to intentionally create time to spend with Him in the mornings, I'm embarrassed at how long I've been dragging my feet to actually do something about it {mainly out of laziness}. Oh I'm thankful that the Lord is patient with me. It's still a process. Sometimes I wake up and CHERISH the morning - even the simple things like eating a good breakfast and having coffee before I leave the house. And other days, I seriously just don't want to get out of bed. Some mornings I really do need rest, but MOST mornings I'm simply acting out of an apathetic heart and lazy spirit. 

Maybe you can relate. Like I said, morning person in training here. But I WANT to seek & find Jesus in those quiet, still moments. Sometimes I don't like the silence. I'm not used to it. But I want to want to crave the stillness. I want to be more like Jesus. I want to learn to pray early in the morning. To align myself and my heart with HIS before I even attempt another thought, action, to-do list, relationship, or goal during the day. I have learned {too often, the hard way} that if I don't intentionally take time to FILL my soul with Jesus, I serve, lead, and love out of whatever I can muster up. My spiritual/emotional/relational tank ends up empty before lunch time, usually, if I foolishly take that approach. 

I want to LEARN the art of morning stillness. I want to be disciplined. To live on purpose. 

But as I'm learning, I'm so thankful for a God who is able, at all times, to both listen to me and speak to me, to allow me the PRIVILEGE of seeking Him and finding Him in freedom. 

xoxo,

kristin 

Favorite Things {Beauty Products}

1. MOX Botanicals Lip Butter {here}
//A lovely sample of this lip butter came in my Birchbox a few month ago, and I LOVE it. Smells super yummy and feels amahhhzing on my lips. Bonus: it's manufactured in Oregon!

2. Maybelline BB Cream {here}
// I use this as my foundation everyday. I really think it's contributed to the overall health of my skin. It's lightweight, healthy, and blends in easily. Plus, it's super cheap! 

3. MAC Ruby Woo Lipstick {here} 
//My all-time favorite red. The matte finish makes this stuff stay on like no other. Paired with a MAC Lip Pencil in "Cherry," it's THE winner. It's a little pricey, but you'll seriously never want to wear another red lipstick again. I don't. 

4. Kiehl's Creme de Corps {here}
// Decided to try this, I've heard so many good things about Kiehl's products. Major luxury for my skin. So far I love it. 

5. Benefit Creaseless Eyeshadow/Liner in "r.s.v.p" {here} 
// This is like a little pot of gold. It's a splurge, for sure, but I love the light color and use it alone or as a base for my eyeshadow every day. I bought it in June and I still have SO much of it left. Major love. 

6. L'Oreal Elnett Satin Hairspray {here} 
// My go-to styling product. Incredibly lightweight with just the right amount of hold for my hair. 

7. Trader Joe's Vitamin E Oil {here} 
// This became part of my "pre-wedding clear skin" regimen, and I still use it. After washing my face (only once a day), I lather on a dime-sized amount of this oil. Gives my skin the nutrients it needs, keeps it well moisturized, and doesn't clog my pores with chemicals found in many moisturizers.

8. Kevin Murphy Angel Wash & Angel Rinse {shampoo/conditioner) {here}
//MAJOR SPLURGE. But so worth it. My wonderful hair dresser/colorist got me hooked on this. The formula is incredibly concentrated, so you don't have to use so much each time you wash/condition, and it doesn't have sulfates & other additives that can tend to strip color from your hair. (Plus, you will WANT to make it last because of the price tag...this is NOT the shampoo you want to have to buy monthly...rather, every 3-4 months.) It's definitely something to plan/save up for because it IS spendy, but I'm not sure anything else has ever made my hair feels so healthy {and my hubby LOVED how soft my hair was; so that makes it worth it, right?} 

9. Neutrogena Original Formula Transparent Facial Bar {here}
// My daily face wash. Also part of the "pre-wedding" plan that I'm now hooked on. It makes my face feel tight when I wash it, but that Vitamin E Oil fixes that right away. Helps my combination skin stay balanced. And it's only like $2-$3! Yes please! [AND, I heard a rumor that this is the skincare plan Jennifer Aniston uses. Just saying.] 

10. Hot Tools Gold Tapered Curling Iron {here}
// My curling iron just broke out of the blue this week, so I decided to try THIS one. You could also call it a curling "wand." Amaze-fest. It can heat up to 450 degrees, and makes beautiful curls. I'm hooked. Hot Tools products are always super fab. 

11. Neutrogena MicroMist Airbrush Tan {here}
// The winter whiteness of my skin literally makes me sad sometimes. That's vain, I know. But there ya go. This "tan-in-a-can" provides a temporary reprieve for my paleness. It's easy to use and has several options to choose from depending on how dark you want to go. 



There's my list of what I've been loving lately! You can see that there are definitely some things I do enjoy splurging on, and other things that I really love buying from the drugstore! 

What about you? Are any of these favorites some of YOUR favorites, too? What would you add to the list? 

Happy weekend!

xoxo,

kristin 

for anyone who has ever had a hard day in ministry

// photo courtesy of tumblr // 

Moment of bravery here. Sometimes I have this thought. This thought that I'd like to write a book one day. So I started it. Several months ago, I sat down and just started writing. Dreaming. Thinking. Wondering what parts of my heart the Lord might want to lift to the surface, print on pages, and use in some way. This is the theoretical first chapter of my theoretical book:

Honesty

For some reason this year, more than ever, the Lord has been stirring in my heart to write down, to acknowledge, to speak out loud, a confession: 

Ministry is hard. 

Ministry. Is. Hard.

Ministry is hard for me.   

The secret’s out. The very thing that I feel called to with my life, the very thing that makes me come alive, the very thing that sparks passion and drive and purpose in me, is hard. It fatigues me. It burdens me. It stirs in me the highest highs and the lowest lows. I can’t think of much else that causes me so much pain and joy sometimes in the same day or the same hour. Within the same week, it’s not an uncommon occurrence that these conflicting thoughts can take place in my heart:

1.    “There’s NOTHING else in the whole world I’d rather do with my life. I was made for this.”

2.    “Why in the world am I doing this with my life? I’m not good at this.”

I remind myself of the person spoken of in James 1:8, “double-minded…unstable in all [her] ways.” Yikes.

Sometimes I just turn my phone off. I have to. If I can just take a break from the texts, calls, emails, and Facebook messages, sometimes I feel like I can get off the hamster wheel that I, in my folly, allow my life to become at times.

What am I afraid of, though? More burdens? The inconvenience of someone else’s troubles changing my day around? The awkwardness I feel when tragedy strikes and I need to be there to comfort someone but feel like I don’t belong in that moment and don’t know what to say? I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing. I’m afraid of saying the right thing and offending someone with truth. There’s always that chance that when I attempt to “speak the truth in love” [eph. 4:15] that I’ll botch the truth/love ratio and speak too much of one and lack the other. It’s easy to err on the side of grace with the people who’s approval I want and NEED. And it’s much too easy to err on the side of truth (sans grace) with people who I don’t really care for (that’s the needs-redemption part of me, just so we’re clear). I cringe at the thought.  

Oy. The thing about ministry that makes it both incredible and incredibly difficult is the nature of it. It involves people. And life. And peoples’ lives. The apostle Paul got it right. He knew that the stakes were high and the investment would be exponential in both its cost and its reward. How blessed the early church in Thessolonica must have been when they read his words to them in his first letter to them.

“But we were gentle among you, like a nursing mother taking care of her own children. So, being affectionately desirous of you, we were ready to share with you not only the gospel of God but also our own selves, because you had become very dear to us” [1 Thess. 1:7-8 ESV].wse

Ministry involves life.  The best and worst and prettiest and ugliest and easiest and hardest parts. It’s messy and fun. For me it often involves coffee {i do love my coffee}. Or food. Or ministry in the evenings more often than mornings. Or hanging out at high schools during lunch – a weekly habit we’ve decided among our staff that would be very creepy if we weren’t there as student ministry leaders. Or rounds of the game “Dump, date, marry” {kind of an awesome and awful and hilarious game if you’ve never played}.

Paul compared ministry to taking care of children. Sometimes high school ministry literally feels like taking care of children. I won’t even begin to describe how that feeling is amplified when you work with middle schoolers. I’ve been there. Middle school staff of the world: LORD BLESS YOU AND STRENGTHEN YOU. But the way that metaphor about children plays itself out is it conveys the picture of constant, never ending exertion of emotional, physical, and spiritual energy, all with the goal of helping to grow and “raise” someone else in the Lord. It also conveys affection. Deep love and compassion. Fierce commitment. An unwavering devotion to walk someone through abundant growth spurts and stunted seasons of doubt, sin, and apathy. It’s the whole package. 

It’s about sharing the Gospel first, sharing ourselves second. That distinction is crucial. Going to basketball games, lunches, and out for coffee is great. It’s easy to think that that is what “incarnational ministry” (life on life, like Jesus did), entails. But anyone can do that. Non-Christians do that and call that “mentoring.” Followers of Jesus do that and call it discipleship, rightfully so. The Gospel trumps sleepovers, game nights, and camping trips. Those events and moments help translate the heart of God through a leader, but the ability within them to produce a memory or experience will never and should never supercede the Gospel.

What about you? 

What's something you need to acknowledge? 

To be honest about?

Maybe to speak out loud? 

What burdens you? 

What drives you?

If you're considering going into "full-time" ministry, keep serving Jesus wherever He has you, continue to pray about it and let the Lord lead...remain excited and never lose that passion! But also, be aware that it's not perfect, its often less "glamorous" than it appears (in case anyone thought that) and there will be a lot of ways that you serve and obey Jesus that only HE will see. Still worth it.

If you're in ministry, be encouraged. Whether this is a season where you feeling like you're thriving OR barely hanging on. Continue running to Jesus. {I often forget that not a day goes by that I need Jesus' grace LESS. Those days that I forget my need for Him are often the days I have deceived myself into thinking I'm more awesome than I actually am}.

Praying we can all strive to be passionate but never at the cost of being brave in being honest. And being OKAY with saying, at the end of some of our hardest days, "That. Was a hard day." And at the end of the most incredible fulfilling days, being able to say, "That. Was an incredible day. To GOD be the glory!"

xoxo,

kristin

new year. new blog.

|| Here we go || 
Blog world. Round 2. I always wondered what it would be like to make a "new blog" {i used to blog lots a few years back.} A couple of months ago, I went to login to the old blog and.... it no longer exists. {what the what?!} Cyber space deleted  ate my blog! Maybe it just knew that when I became a Mrs just 7 months ago, "kristinzanon.blogspot.com" simply wouldn't do anymore. I'm not gonna lie. It's a little melancholy. ALL of my former posts/pictures/odes to my best friends on their birthdays are simply...gone. Wah wah. 

So this is the new year! My sister kind of inspired me when she started her very own darling blog this year for the first time ever! 

Confession #1: I resisted re-entering the blog world for a LONG time. Partially due to the fact that - between getting engaged, getting married, getting mono, moving 3 times, enjoying a full/busy year a ministry with my new hubby, travelling to Israel, and {oh yeah} resting a little - I couldn't quite find the time to document it all, especially in 2012. Not only that, but I didn't quite feel like I could...{how do I say it?} keep up? Anyone know what I mean? The blog world has become increasingly...bloggy. Well. Awesome. Trendy. Amazefest. Beautiful. Inspiring. DIY and OOTD and all the other acronyms started pokin' at the perfectionist in me, not in a good way. Sometimes rather than feeling inspired, motivated, or amazed, the ugly parts of this heart felt competitive, jealous, insecure, covetous, and discouraged. Oo. Hate admitting that. {but between Twitter, Instagram, Pinterest, Facebook, and other blogs, there's at least a 1% chance ONE other person has maybe felt that way ONE time. Maybe? Hard to say, really.} 

Confession #2: I can get really vain. materialistic. self-absorbed. obsessive-compulsive. really really quick. 

But i knew I needed to be doing something. I need to write. It's part of how I'm wired; I really deeply truly believe that, for ME, part of staying healthy, sane, and energized in my life is doing something the Lord made me for. I need to write, process, and document life. EVEN IF no one reads it. EVEN if it's just part of my walk with Jesus. But i do want to let others in on it. 

Confession #3: This is an attempt at not attempting perfection. This is an attempt to be honest. This is not a fashion blog {the Lord knows that I don't have the energy to look that fab every day; though I will for sure write about fashion at times}. This is not a food blog {the Lord also knows that cereal and yogurt are not picture/post worthy. Maybe someday when I actually cook "for real" enough days of the week, my meals will earn themselves a little place on here}. This is not an exercise blog {we're not even going to talk about that. Let's just say I was in AWESOME shape for my wedding in May, and I'll never have more pictures taken than I did on that day soooo let's just go with that}. However, I SO respect people with blogs like that! I just have to be okay with mine not being that "cool," at least not yet :] 

I just know that I want to encourage others, to be real, and to allow whoever comes across this to "breathe easy," for you to feel like you're having a conversation with a dear friend. 

I'll write more soon. But whatever pictures, adventures, thoughts, prayers I may post here... I want SO fiercely to always find and cherish ...

|| the heart of it ||. 

xoxo,

kristin