Love Mercy

March 8th was International Women's Day.  In honor of the day, Kristen Welch guest posted on Ann Voskamp's blog about the work that Mercy House Kenya does for women there.  The post moved me that day; you can go back and read it here.  So, on the spot, I decided to buy a Love Mercy Bracelet.

It's a simple heart charm strung on a piece of twine.  A circle that connects my heart to the hearts of the women in Kenya.  With the bracelet comes a little card.  It says:

Tie this bracelet on and pray for girls so far away, Share their story from your heart, When the bracelet naturally falls off one day, You will know you've done your part.

Mercy Maternity House helps girls in Kenya find grace and protection in the midst of difficult, often unplanned, pregnancies.  They offer a safe place for them to learn how to care for their child and themselves.

The story of Mercy House really touched my heart.  I love having this simple bracelet that reminds me each day to pray for the beautiful women that are apart of this ministry.  In my plushy, American life, sometimes it's hard for me to remember the deep struggles facing girls, many my own age, all over the world.

  Rape, prostitution, and slavery aren't apart of my world.  They are one of those ugly topics that I just don't often think about.  Yet, it's reality to too many women.  It's the painful nightmare that they are just trying to survive.  And I want so desperately to make a difference.  Just to let them know that they are loved, that they can be beautiful daughters of the King, and they have support in raising their babies and facing this world -- that's something I want to do.  And right now, tangibly, I can wear this bracelet and tell everyone about Mercy House Kenya.

If you'd like to buy a bracelet or learn more about Mercy House, please visit them here.

Psalm 101

Psalm 101 caught my eye as I was reading my Bible this morning, and I thought I'd share it with you all.

I will sing of mercy and justice;
To You, O Lord, I will sing praises.

I will behave wisely in a perfect way.
Oh, when will You come to me?
I will walk within my house with a perfect heart.

I will set nothing wicked before my eyes;
I hate the work of those who fall away;
It shall not cling to me.
A perverse heart shall depart from me;
I will not know wickedness.

I liked how the Psalmist is reminding himself of all that he wants to be, and how he should walk with God.  It's like he's telling his heart who he wants to emulate.  So, I want to echo this psalm today.  "I will sing of mercy and justice; to You, O Lord, I will sing praises..."

Counting Gifts. Or Fleas, as the Case May Be.

It's funny how easy it is to count "gifts" on Christmas morning.  There's the new watercolors, dangling earrings, and a little ornament for the tree.  One, two, three.  But ask me now, in the middle of March, when there's a blizzard flying outside and cold uncertainty piling up in my heart.  Where are these gifts?  Because a new, shiny wristwatch, wrapped up in a miniature box with a bow is an easy gift to find.  It's right there, clasping my wrist.  But, quickly those material gifts run out when you're counting 1000 gifts.  I'm not a millionaire, with stuff piled around.  And I think there's more to a "gift" than the tangible, physical matter that lays before my eyes.

And so, when I'm daring to find Joy today, and every day this year, I've begun to look for things that are a little less obvious.  It reminds me of the story of Corrie and Betsy Ten Boom.  When the two women were taken to a concentration camp, infested with fleas and reeking of urine, Betsy thanked God for those fleas.  She smiled and breathed out a prayer of thankfulness for the dirty bugs clinging to the very sheets she had laid her head upon.

They didn't know it then, but later they found out that no guard would come into their building because of the horrible fleas.  And so their Bible study flourished undetected at that camp, and God was glorified.  Because of fleas.  But God was glorified long before those hours of studying Scripture.  He was glorified before Betsy and Corrie had shared the Gospel with a single soul in that concentration camp.  When Betsy thanked Him from the depths of her heart, thanked Him for the very thing that she detested most, He was glorified.

There are gifts everywhere.  In everything we touch, in everything we see and hear.  God has a purpose and a gift in every circumstance, even when it seems impossible to be true.  Even when our lives are filled with fleas.  God has a purpose, even for that.

Thank you, Father.

Lent

Today starts Lent.  Those forty days that tread on the road to Easter morning.  I never paid much attention to them before.  It's a busy time -- these forty days.  There's two birthdays in the family to celebrate, usually a recital or two to practice for, the end of school is in sight , yet so much more work needs to be done.

My grandpa, a Catholic, observes Lent.  And that's all that I knew about it.  Yet, there is something about Easter.  You shouldn't just come about the day, and celebrate it.  You need to build up to it, and savor it, and dwell on it much longer than one day out of three hundred and sixty-five.  Easter isn't a holiday, it's a lifestyle.  And Lent is the time set aside to clear our minds and our hearts, realigning our hearts with the reality of what Easter means.

I don't know why I paid attention to the idea this year.  Maybe it was because for the past month, as I was interning on the creative arts team at my church, we were preparing for forty days of Church-wide prayer.  Creating content for an initiative to pray for those who don't know our Savior with the intent to do something about it.  And it made me think about Easter differently.  It isn't just a holiday, it's a revolutionary concept that can change your life.

Maybe it was a song, stuck in my heart as I surfed the internet, filling my mind with mindlessness.  Garbage in, Garbage out, What goes in is found out, All can see what goes in me, I pay the price...



Lizzie says that the song is annoying.  It sticks in her head.  Yet, that's the point, isn't it?  What goes into my heart stays there, gets stirred around, and comes back out again in some way, some form.  In this case, it's a melody.  In some cases, not so much.

So maybe all this made me decide to focus, for forty days, on something more than mindless monotony that the world unceasingly chants.  It tries to lull me to sleep.  And here I am, with a Love so explosive, so beyond comprehension -- yet I'm drifting to sleep.

This year I want a Lent that drives me to see Joy in something beyond myself.  In something beyond the internet and the TV.  In something beyond material things, and the possessiveness of me. I want to breathe out something else these next forty days, and forever, really.  I want the reality of Easter -- of a brutal murder of a radical God and of a power that brings a dead Man to life to change humanity forever -- to be what people notice in me.

Lies

Yesterday my friend and I were making a funny video of each other.  When I sat down and watched what we had created, I was amazed at what I saw.  Was that really me?  Do I actually sound like that?  Is that how I laugh, and the way I move my hands when I speak?  

I never see myself candidly like that.  I look at myself in the mirror so many times a day, yet I have no idea what I look like.  In my head, I look like the girl in the mirror -- every hair exactly how I've placed it, nice posture, everything.  But really I don't look like that.  I laugh, look perplexed, listen to others talk, open doors, trip, lounge on the couch.  I never see myself then.  I don't see the real, live me, when I'm really being.  

And my friends, those around me, see me differently than I see myself.  They see how I act, the words I say that give a picture of who I am.  They see the way I stand, sit, talk, and laugh -- and accept it as me.  But that isn't me either, really.  They don't know the me inside myself.  They can't see my motives, my worldview and limited, unique perspective.  They see a part of me, but no one will ever understand completely all that it is to be me.

The only one who gets to see both -- the way I am outside of me, and who I am inside of me -- is God.  He has the perfect perspective...which is why it makes sense that His thoughts on my life are the most important.

Anyway -- all of that to get to this -- I've recently been wondering about the lies I tell myself.  There are some lies so deep within me, so subconscious, that I don't even question them.  It's like the lie I tell myself about my voice.  I hear myself speak, and I accept it as how I really sound.  But, when I hear myself on a recording, I discover that the voice inside my head isn't quite accurate.

There are other lies I let myself believe sometimes.  Lies about being ugly, or stupid, or insignificant.  About not being enough or inconsequential.  Sometimes I tell myself lies that make me feel better than I am, too.  My heart, which knows so little, says I'm smarter than I am.  That I'm better than others.  That I deserve so much.

These things I tell myself are not a conscious decision I make.  They came from my culture, my experience, and the finite, sinful flesh that I dwell in.  And yet, I have the ability to follow after One who knows the truth.  One who tells me pointblank that, though I am nothing on my own, I am His beautiful daughter.  I matter, I have purpose, because He has given it to me.  And He knows who I really am.  He created me -- body and soul.  He should know.  And so, when I run after Him, I discover myself.  I'll never see me by listening to those around me or by looking in the mirror.  It's only when I surrender to a God so big, so infinite and beyond me, that I find myself.  It's terrifying to give myself away -- to say YES to all that He asks of me.  Yet, it's where I find contentment, too.  And Joy.  And a Peace beyond what I could know on my own.

Wait, you know what Angry Birds is, too?!

It's funny how things work out sometimes.  Like when I learn about the man who invented steam engines, and a Jeopardy! question asks about the same thing.  Or when my mom gets a Hyundai, and suddenly it seems like the roads are filled with them.  And I feel like the world discovers things as I discover things.  But, really, they've always been there.  I'm just seeing them for the first time.

It's the same with Joy, really.  When I decide to pursue a life of Joy, I discover that Ann is doing a Joy Dare on her blog.  But this isn't the first year she's organized it.  It's simply the first year I've paid attention.  And, with taking on this dare, this dare to count 1,000 blessings, I've found so many things I've never seen before.  They've always been there, but I'm finally seeing them.

They are little things -- like hugs from good friends and warm, cozy slippers -- but they make all the difference.  Because, when suddenly I see these blessings cropping up everywhere, I'm aware of something so much bigger than myself.  Even though each little Joy is small by itself, counting 1,000 blessings illuminates a God that watches over every minute detail of my life.  He's there, every moment of my life.  And He's given me everything I need.  Every breath.  Every smile.  Every new opportunity or trial that I face.  He's given it to me because He knows me and loves me.  What better reason do I need to be joyful?

Joy

I'm an autumn person.  I like the deep, rich colors that come before the leaves die.  I prefer the last lines of Moby Dick ("It was the devious-cruising Rachel, that in her retracing search after her missing children, only found another orphan.") to Cinderella ("And they lived happily ever after.")  I enjoy Christmas carols written in minor keys. I like  for KING & COUNTRY's song "Crave" to their "Fine Fine Life".  And, if I had to admit, I often let myself slip into despondency for no reason, and let bitterness creep in where it doesn't belong.

Basically, I like the opposite of joy.  I'm not sure what to call it, exactly.  It isn't unhappiness or sadness or anger.  It isn't that I don't love to laugh.  I am just, moody.  Minor, instead of major.  Grey, in place of white.  And so, it makes me uncomfortable to reach outside my small circle of melancholy contentment and experience unbridled Joy.  To laugh until I cry.  To sing "Good Morning," Mandisa's energetic thankfulness for a brand new day, at the top of my lungs.  Because the introvert in me, who likes to live life in retrospection and contemplativeness,  often misses the happiness in the moment.  Often skips the blessings, and sees only the shadows.  And while that isn't always the case for me, it often turns out that way.  So, this year, I'm wanting Joy to kidnap my heart.

I've been looking at Scriptures that talk about Joy.  Lately, it's been Psalm 51:12:

"Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit."

 The Psalmist is asking God to give him Joy, and a spirit willing to do what God asks.  And that's the best way to start.  Prayer.

"Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.  For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened." Matt. 7:7-8

 I've also been trying to find some songs with themes of Joy, but I've had a hard time finding anything that really talks specifically about Joy.  There are a multitude of songs dealing with hope, forgiveness, and grace, but I've had a difficult time finding any that have to do with Joy.

Have you been reading any Scripture about your word of the year?  If you've heard any Christian music that speaks about Joy, I'd love to hear about it!