Beyond the Blue

My mind is somewhat like a river, but the water does not run quickly and easily, like one's next breath does. There are jagged rocks and dams and twigs, barriers that my thoughts and feelings must cross to exit the confines of my conscience. There are very few things that have the ability to clear a path, making way for exposure. One of those things is music, another is writing, yet another is quite a recent discovery- a place. Never did I envision that a place could have this effect on me, but beyond my knowing, this place has become a comfort, a catalyst, a safe haven. 

The Blue Ridge Mountains.

The air around the mountains is cool and it's fresh and the towering hills welcome you in, almost as if they've watched you become- they know everything about you, and they beckon you in nonetheless. Their roads are windy and their views bring breathless smiles. 

These mountains have barely known me, for I have just met them. I really was unaware of them at all until just over a year ago. Sure, I knew of their existence, but I had never seen them, nor thought about them, nor been drawn to them. But now that I am here, the thought of leaving is almost unimaginable. 

Maybe the Blue Ridge and I have just met, but we are more than mere acquaintances. They have seen more growth in me than maybe anyone else. They watched as the consumption with my own matters developed into the longing to accompany a friend to meet with the Lord. They protected me when I was lost amongst them, fearing that I would never escape. They bid me farewell as I drove my sleepy friends home through a hallway of color while Josh Garrels sang softly. They laughed along with me as I got lost in the tangled web of roads that run between. They smile on me as I make my way to eat between lunches in Seneca, gently nudging me to keep going back. They have been present for countless times that the camera button has clicked- they are a constant in even the deepest corners of my life.

Jesus resides here in the Blue Ridge, I am sure of it. Though I feel Him here, so strongly, so closely, He is elsewhere too. I am capable of feeling Him in other places, especially the ones that I am scared to encounter once my departure with the Blue Ridge arrives. The mountains are quietly reminding me of that.

For now, I am free to roam them, free to breathe in their unmistakeable air. And in a few years, all too soon, I will be free to leave them. And I will learn to be free in another place, a place that lies beyond. But before that can happen, a part of my heart must detach from me and be laid somewhere between the peaks of the Blue Ridge, where greatness is yawned. 

And I must say, that I am delighted for a part of me to reside here- because it will always beckon me to come back. And every once in awhile, I just might listen.

this mess was yours, now your mess is Mine

Today was one of those days.

Yeah. You know what I mean. Like the type of day when the snooze button is calling your name, but you know you have to get out of bed. The type of day when you feel like it's nearly impossible to measure up. The type of day when you feel like everyone has someone except for you and you just feel like laying down on the couch with a glass of sparkling grape juice while T Swift plays (lol).

For me, today was exactly that kind of day.

I felt like I had this mess that was growing into a large pile. Like the kind of clothes pile that overtakes your room until the floor is buried deep beneath it, nowhere to be seen. I felt like I couldn't think straight because that messy pile just kept on growing and growing, until someone told me that they'd take my mess for me. And that person was Vance Joy.

You're probably wondering who that is- honestly I was too until today. Vance Joy is an extremely talented singer/songwriter, and early this morning, I decided to check out his album. I highly recommend it by the way . But the second song on the album is called "Mess is Mine". The chorus of that song ends with the line: this mess was yours, now this mess is mine. (the album is located on the right side of the page, if you'd like to listen too!) When I heard that, I blocked out the rest of the song and whatever it was written about, and solely focused on that line. I played it over and over again and after awhile, it wasn't Vance Joy's voice that I heard singing anymore- it was the voice of Jesus.

Today Jesus saw the mess that was clouding my vision, that was taking over every bare corner of my life, and He wanted to take that away. He wanted to breathe life back into me. No one forced Him to do that, but He delightedly did it anyways because He has the greatest love for me.

If today is one of those days for you, or tomorrow is, or the next day, or the one after that- Jesus wants to take your mess too. He would love to do that for you. He has the greatest love for you too! No matter the size, no matter the circumstances, Jesus wants us to unclench our fists, revealing open palms, so that a transfer is made- so that the mess that was ours becomes His. All we have to do is let Him take it.

as good as it gets

Sometimes I am convinced that this is as good as it gets. Especially now, as September rolls in, sure to bring less stifling temperatures and richly colored leaves. It's sophomore year of college and the friendships are somehow growing sweeter. And the hurricane of tests and papers has not caused precautions to be taken or damage to be done yet. The freedom is still tangible.

We can drive to a faraway mountain town for the afternoon, because time is still abundant. We can make plans with little conflict and we can have worship nights in a dimly lit living room without the  pressing feeling that there is something more important to be done, and we can stay up all night laughing with our roommates, despite the early morning classes that come quicker than we'd like.

Sometimes I think this is as good as it gets. But only sometimes.

Because I remember that there are memories yet to be made, music yet to be discovered, road trips yet to be taken, people yet to be met, stages of life yet to be entered, and heaven yet to be seen. This is not  as good as it gets. And while this kind of good that life brings seems so great right now, this is some of the best news we will ever receive.

Life forever with Jesus, a space prepared especially for you, a kind of unity we cannot know until we get there- that is as good as it gets. And for now, I am thankful for the mere small glimpses that I get to see of it.

running towards the wreckage

Ever since I was a kid, I've spent a good amount of time at the beach. And now that I go to school near the mountains, I'm not as fond of it. The sand is sticky and the air is salty and the pace of life is different, slower. But I still haven't outgrown my love for the expanse of untouched waters where the skyline is visible, or lazy walks down the shore and back. Tonight I took one of those walks.

Each time I walk, whether I plan to or not, my eyes constantly scan the ground beneath my feet, searching for shells. I know what to look for- the ones I've always liked: the scalloped ones or the pure white ones or the ones with really deep grooves. But I, just like most every other person that has ever searched for seashells, will only deem the shell acceptable if it is without blemish, fault, or stain.

Tonight as I looked, I kept picking up shells and tossing them back, because they were damaged. And then I found this one:

That's one of those pure white ones. It is not cracked or dented or covered with anything. It looks perfect, so I shove the shell in my pocket, happy to have found it. 

And as I continue to walk, I find this: 

This is one of those shells I like with deep grooves, except for most of it has been ripped off, lost at sea or buried under the sand. So I toss it back, unsatisfied. But before I can even stand up and keep walking, I bend back down and pick it up and stick it into my pocket too, not really sure why. 

And then I get it.

I was that shell, the damaged one. And without any doubt or hesitation, Jesus picked me up and smiled in the midst of my brokenness and took that on. He decided to bear the weight of being broken, and He washed me and made me white and pure and whole. He didn't see the white shell as more valuable than the chipped one. He didn't love one more than the other. In fact, Jesus was drawn to the blemished people, the ones that were disregarded and ignored and taunted. He was drawn to me. And in the midst of your brokenness, He was drawn to you too.

All too often I realize that I overlook the beauty in broken people- all I see is the mess and I decide that it will take too long to dig through to find the beautiful parts underneath. But Jesus sees that there is beauty in the mess, in the damage, in the missing pieces. When I see the wreckage, I pretend that I don't notice it, but He runs in its direction, because He cares too much to leave it like that. And tonight, Jesus used something as small and as silly as seashells to remind me that He wants me to do that too.

why dream? - so your spirit lives

The summer months are dwindling, slowly but surely. With each new dawn that develops into dusk before our eyes, we get a little closer- a little closer to growing up. I think that the process of growing up can be a virus: a virus in the business of caging up our spirits and souls, taming them, silencing them. Growing up doesn't stop, and it doesn't discriminate. Life gets busier by the minute, but the Father has been teaching me that there is a way to make sure the light in us doesn't go out. In fact, He's showing me how to make it burn even brighter.

The answer is dreams.

I've seen it my whole life. I watch people become adults. They create families, get jobs, and they become martyrs. They sacrifice. And they do this for their families, and it's beautiful. People sacrifice because they love who they do life with and want the best for them. But somewhere along the way in this beautiful process, something gets overlooked. Spirits get locked away and people forget where they put the key. All of the sudden, eyes don't see the little things so clearly anymore, because the big responsibilities take up their entire field of vision. And maybe I lack lots of experience here. I'm 18 years old, in college, and I have no one else I'm obligated to provide for except for myself. But I know that I don't ever want "life happening" to get in the way of what really matters. And I know that I want to share what really matters with who I do life with.

And the other day it occurred to me, as I read through Love Does by Bob Goff again- dreams. They're magical. When the Lord puts a dream in our hearts, and we choose to obey Him and go after it, we're choosing adventure. We're choosing struggle. But we're choosing joy too.

Then my heart tore in two- because sometimes when people grow up, they forget that they're still allowed to dream. Or maybe they were never even told they were allowed to. Too many people are letting their dreams die, or letting the world define their dreams, not dreaming at all, or forgetting to look to Jesus when they do dream. I think that dreams matter, and that dreams should bring joy. Like I said, maybe it's just easier for me. I'm more able to dream than most, because I don't really have to share my dreams with anyone but Jesus. But the joy these dreams bring me is too great for anyone to be cheated of it.  No dreams are too big, and none too small, but they should be shared with the Father.

I just desire for people to remember what it feels like to want things, to have ideas, and to choose joy. Risks and frivolousness don't really matter in the long run. Maybe your dream won't get rid of sickness, and maybe it won't save the world- but if it invites joy into your heart and makes Jesus smile and makes others smile, just dream it. And then take your dream and translate it into an action.

So explore, sail from sea to sea, chase things intently and deliberately, don't be afraid of a good idea. But also, don't be crushed if any of your dreams fall through; remember, our dreams are not what define us. M. Craig Barnes once said: that we spend most of our lives trying to make things happen for ourselves and for people we love. But life is not reduced to what you give or know or achieve. Nor is it reduced to your mistakes, your failures, or your sin. Life isn't even defined by whom you love. Rather, it is defined by the God who loves you. In other words, you are not the central character-- not even of your own life's story. This is not meant to demean you; it is meant to set you free. 

The Father's plan is good- let Him be the central character, let Him love you, trust that He has joy for you, and seek it! Love does. Dreaming does. And if we're not loving and dreaming, what are we doing?

Recently, the Lord opened my eyes up to the difference between existing and living. He showed me the image of a caged up bird, and made it clear that I am the bird, we are the bird, locked up in the cage. He gave us the power to push the cage door open. And He can help us to fly- we just have to ask. And He continued to make it clear that dreaming is part of learning to fly. Being passionate about something is an important part of living. And after spending so long just merely existing, I desire for people to know that the Lord wants them to seek joy in fully living. He wants you to seek joy in fully living.

So it's time for you and it's time for me to open up the cage door, to seek joy in adventure, and to dream the dream(s) Jesus put in our hearts. The best way to cure existence is to live-- and today is the day to start doing that.

faith that it will return

Tonight (Sunday April 27), a few friends and I escaped the madness of finals week in Clemson to go study at Coyote Coffee, where as usual, the amount of laughter was greater than the amount of studying. On our ride back, my friend, Ben, rode with me. With the sounds of Penny and Sparrow echoing in the background, we spoke of Jesus and life and college, and then he asked me: "Have you had a good year this year?"

All the sudden, the memories came flooding back. And they overtook me, almost to the point where it took me too long to answer, yes- absolutely. 

Imagine a transformation, a heart change. And then, think bigger than that. Then, add in joy, abundance, sacrifice, dependence, a couple of tears, full cars and full hearts, voices singing praises to the Lord, desperation, growth, and pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. 

Imagine five girls huddled together, holding hands on a frigid night, praying a last minute prayer at 3 AM for help to come to get their car out of a ditch, then a tow truck arriving less than two minutes later.

Imagine a sunset that envelopes the sky in pinks and yellows and oranges. The lake even appears pink because the glory is overtaking and the darkness couldn't put it out. And imagine the arms of friends around you as you take it all in.

Imagine rushing through an exam just to get to a Steve Moakler concert an hour away with a girl you barely know well enough to call a friend. And then imagine loving the car rides there and back more than the concert itself and leaving with a new friendship that makes your heart smile.

Imagine orange overalls and coats and gloves and scarves. Imagine the lights turning on in death valley, the eruption of cheers, and the appreciation of being fed food you didn't pay for.

Imagine twinkly lights and dips and spins and twirls, silliness and awkwardness, new moves and flips. Then imagine Dancin' in the Moonlight, Footloose, and Hold Back the Night.

Imagine irrational adventures, but gallons of gas never wasted. Imagine road trips and coffee and the perfect playlists. Imagine rainy days and sunny days, silence and laughter and stories. And then imagine a friendship that teaches you how to look more like Jesus without even realizing it until much later.

Imagine sitting on top of a mountain, overlooking the world below, and the soft strums of a guitar as voices slowly join in, one by one. Imagine sunrises and frozen waterfalls and capturing every moment. Imagine a long wooden table and family style meals. Imagine conversation that could change the world, and open hearts.

Imagine serving food and setting an uncountable number of tables multiple times a day, to perfection. Imagine getting to witness your friends show their friends who Jesus is. Imagine a conversation that would encourage for days to come.

Imagine unwanted solitude, on the side of a mountain. Imagine desperation, and then imagine dependence, then all surpassing, incomprehensible peace that overtakes worry.

Imagine lake side picnics, and too many birthdays to handle in the span of four days. 

Imagine open ears and an open heart, listening to the older and wiser. Imagine observing actions when others aren't even aware of the impact they are making. Imagine seeing Christ in those seen day in and day out, and imagine the sadness of watching them go. But then, imagine the joy of seeing loose ends being tied, a page being finished, only to have a blank set appear.

Imagine Wednesday nights at 9, the time where friendships were cultivated, eyes were opened, and decisions were made. Imagine the acquaintances that became friends before you knew it, and imagine all of the conversations over coffee that stemmed from that. Imagine life change, heart change.

Imagine a night where life actually changed forever, and the excitement is tangible. Imagine unreal connections made known, and inevitable best friendships. Imagine a purpose, a place to pour out, and to watch the Lord do what only He can do. Imagine hope and thankfulness and tears and smiles and laughter. Imagine learning to die to yourself for the sake of the Gospel, all for the Gospel.

Imagine a chapter begun, and a fourth of it come to completion. Imagine the nostalgia, the sweet memories, and a heart that could burst from joy. Imagine the tears of sadness because it is about to escape for a little while. Imagine the grasp to hold on, and the realization that the only way to hold on is to let go, to free fall, with faith that it will return when the time is right.

Can you picture that? I can. I lived it. And to think this all occurred in about 9 months. It almost seems like a dream, an impossible dream. But it wasn't. Jesus intricately created this experience just for me, and He chose for it to happen at Clemson, and to weave the right people together so beautifully. Sometimes, one school year is all it takes for your world to turn upside down in the best kind of way. 

Clemson, I'll miss you this summer. I'll miss your rolling hills, and the explosions of color in your skies. I'll miss staying up too late and I'll miss dancing until my feet hurt. I'll miss the conversations that put an imprint on my heart, the ones that leave my brain challenged, and the ones that leave tear streaks on my face from laughing. I'll miss the frustration, and the struggle to find a hiding place. I'll miss the sweet mountain air taken in while exploring, and I'll miss the exchange of the depths of hearts. And maybe, just maybe, I'll miss the hours upon hours spent in the classroom, and those late library nights where not much studying got done. I'll miss it all. And pictured or not, you made a difference, whether it was directly or indirectly, whether you know it or not- you did make a difference.

Jesus, thank You. Just thank You. You stretched me in ways I didn't know I could be stretched and You gave me what I needed. There were mountaintops and there were valleys, and now a year has passed, and Jesus, You are greater still.