I understand feeling pain over the state of our world.

I understand feeling fear.

I understand feeling helpless, or angry, or heartbroken over terrorist attacks, suicide bombings, the plight faced by refugees, and so much else.

But if you claim to be Christian and you rejoice because someone involved in these things will "rot and be tormented in hell", then you don't know God's justice or reconciliation or love.

Jesus begged the Father to forgive those who tortured him, who flogged him and nailed him to a tree. Paul fought to tell every soul — even prison guards, persecutors — the gospel. They saw the battle and they knew how high and wide and deep the love of God extends, even in the midst of those we tend to deem "unreachable". The people involved in these attacks were made by the same hands that made us, and He died for the whole world. His heart is for them, too.

I believe that ought to be our response as Christ followers.

He's Got Better Things In Mind.

"Sometimes, by celebrating the evangelical heroes of the faith, we have inadvertently communicated something false: if it's not big and audacious and officially sanctioned, it's not good enough for God."-Sarah Bessey, 'Jesus Feminist'

Ever since, like, junior year of high school, I've always wanted to be in missions of some sort. I wanted to be out on the front lines, telling people and showing people who Jesus is.  I wanted to be somewhere crazy, doing things that people write those books about. I wanted to be sold out for God, going against the norm and being somebody people could take one look at and see reckless compassion.

Coming home from Australia, I knew exactly what God wanted me to do; God wanted me to go to university in Seattle. But I didn't want to do that. That was so normal. I didn't want to do what God wanted me to; I wanted to jump back on a plane and work with my YWAM base.  I wanted to jump into secondary schools and work in missions, and live in some country that I'm a stranger to and be one of the crazies. I convinced myself that all of this was good. "This has to be God's plan for me, it feels like what I'm built for".  I was getting so wrapped up in the idea of being one of the crazies that it overshadowed my desire to obey God.

Over these past few months, I've been getting convicted, over and over and over again, of comparing God's plan for me to the plans He has for my friends and family all over the world. I'd keep asking Him, "God, I am sitting here, willing and ready to go leave normalcy behind and become a missionary, while there are others who are called to that life who don't even want it. Why won't you call me there?"   

And He replied to me (in my head/heart/whatnot, mind you):  Caroline, how does that help you grow? If I called you into spaces that don't require you to trust Me, how does that help our relationship?  Why don't you trust Me and the plans I have for you?

Ouch. God was asking me why I don't trust Him, and I had no answer. I thought I was trusting Him, but I was only trusting Him if the path He was leading me on looked the way I wanted it to. To be honest, that's not trust at all. 

I thought that I had to do more, be more, give more than what He's asking of me. I didn't feel like going to college was enough for Him, like He was just putting my life on the backburner for a while so He could focus elsewhere.  

I read a book, called 'Jesus Feminist' by Sarah Bessey, and I came across that quote at the top of this post. I realized how easily we place "heroes of the faith" on pedestals and compare our paths to theirs. Yes, they ought to inspire us to be obedient to the calling God has placed on each of our lives, but our callings are not the same. God is enthralled by each of us and delighted by us and excited about the plans He has for each and every one of us. Not all of us are called to third-world countries. Not all of us are called to a 9-5 job, either. 

I placed so many people on pedestals and admired the life they lived, and I was focused on imitating them rather than authenticity in Christ. I wanted to live those adventures instead of the ones Abba had planned for me and Him personally.  How much of an insult is that? I was stuck in this mindset of thinking God either didn't care or didn't know what He was doing, and I was bitter and making myself miserable because I thought the grass was greener for the other sheep in His flock. Thank the Lord for His boundless grace that showed me how screwed up my thought processes were.

If we all got caught up in comfort rather than walking out Jesus' Lordship, I really don't think much would get done for the Kingdom. We wouldn't grow past the boxes we place ourselves in. We wouldn't face the messes in our lives or walk out into stormy seas because we're too comfortable on the beach; we're settling for leftovers when God invites us to feast with Him. And God has such good plans for us. He's so excited about doing life with us. He loves us and cares for us.  Even if His plans sound a little crazy or a little weird, why wouldn't we go with Him? He's been doing His job for a long time. He knows what we need.

Now? Now I'm excited for school. I see friends doing missions stuff, I see people going off and doing crazy wonderful things for the Kingdom, and I'm so stoked for all of them, but I'm excited about how God is going to use me, too. Sure, it looks different than what I imagined, but that's not a new thing (and thank God that all my plans for my life did not happen).  For me, these are the waters He's asking me to step out onto, taking a step of faith and going into university while lacking the slightest idea of what the rest of my life is going to look like. But whether I end up in some other country or serving people in American city streets, I know He's got me, and wherever Love takes me will be pretty adventurous indeed.

This song is about the Lord's pursuit of us even when we'd rather walk our own path. He's relentless, hey. ("Song For You" - Jenny and Tyler) (I've been convicted by the lyrics of this song since I first heard it, and I thought that this was the perfect time to share.)

Drum Circles In Droughts & Storms.

I'll admit, I've been trying to write these last few blog posts at arm's length: a few steps back from the mess, safe, impersonal. 

But with this one, I kept trying to get the words to say what I hoped to say without putting myself into the paragraphs, and I have failed ineffably.

This is my new approach. I'm writing from a place of learning what the heck to say about hard times and how the heck to say it, and I'm learning how to show the cracks of my own soul in these words. Bear with me, now. 

I've been going through a "dry season". I've been trying to press in, to learn more about Jesus and to pray and to connect, but I've felt spiritually empty. I've had to really fight for joy. I've had to combat mental exhaustion in order to get things done. God told me this season was coming, though. A few months ago, I felt like He was telling me I had to walk through a season that was going to be hard, and that He wasn't going to make it less hard just because I'm uncomfortable with difficulty.

This was the verse engrained into my heart as I entered this season:

"Wait patiently for the Lord.

  Be brave and courageous.

  Yes, wait patiently for the Lord."

(Psalm 27:14 NLT)

If you know me, you know I lack patience in a lot of ways. Sometimes, on my good days, I'm fine with waiting. But when I walk through tough times, I come to think of God as a waiter at a restaurant rather than the Lord of Heaven's Armies and I get impatient. "God, give me joy." "God, please give me peace." "God, give me energy, and help me have a good day." And you know what? These are totally valid prayers, but this past season was one where He told me that I had to wait on Him and trust in Him even when my mood and my circumstances weren't changing.

Abba told me I had to be uncomfortable for a while and I didn't understand why until now, until I'm walking out of it (hindsight is 20/20 sometimes, hey). So here's my thoughts on dry seasons:

God loves us and wants the best for us, but a lot of times His best for us does not look the way we want it to.

God is not a vending machine. He is not a waiter. I am in no place to demand anything from Him and He is not obligated to give me anything.

God does not ignore us or forget about us. Even in the tougher seasons, He's still there, wanting to walk through everything right alongside us, wanting to use us for the Kingdom's invasion, wanting to encourage us and correct us and help us grow and know Him more deeply.

There is still joy and peace and harvest to be had in the crappy times. Maybe we have to fight harder for it than a mere 5-word prayer, but it's there and God wants us to find it. He wants good gifts for His children. 

I can relate to the little drummer boy in my hard times.  He had nothing to give to Jesus but himself, all he could do for Christ was bring all he knew and all he was, and he played his drum. In times where things are hard, I relate to the little drummer boy because I'm worn down to my core, I have nothing extravagant to bring and I feel empty and broken, and all I can give is all of myself. And you know what? We play our personal drums – we be ourselves, our whole selves (talents and brokenness and all) – and Jesus smiles at us, too (pa-rum-pum-pum–pum).

There is a relationship upgrade in being real about hard times.  I think that God lets us walk through tough seasons because it draws us closer to Himself and to others. In the middle of our bad days, we can choose to connect, to be real, to worship God because He's always worthy of it. The things that wear us down bring us back to our raw selves, and in that vulnerability, there is empathy and connection. 

Hard times teach us how to make drum circles even in the droughts and the storms.  I've always loved jam sessions, where people bring their instruments and the musical collaboration makes a beautiful sound.  This season taught me that we could be in the middle of a spiritual desert, we could feel like we're drowning or we're going to be wrecked in the hurricane, but we can still bring our drums to the circle and play the beat that bangs in our chest, we can connect and be real about life and pain and joy and together, our drums can make a beautiful sound. God orchestrates the most epic percussion performance when we all bring our drum to the circle regardless of the storm raging around us.

And the coolest part is in the moments when we play in that drum circle, with the fellowship He's placed us in and we're willing to be real, we realize we're not alone, we recognize how much power we hold in the body of Christ, we see the end of the tunnels that are our tough seasons, we love bigger and learn more about ourselves and God and those around us. And, when we play the song we've been built to play, even out in the middle of the desert, other people are drawn to the music.

“The serpent deceived me,” she replied. “That’s why I ate it.”

I would like to trek back to Genesis 3 today and look at the fall of Creation. 

The serpent was the shrewdest of all the wild animals the Lord God had made. One day he asked the woman, “Did God really say you must not eat the fruit from any of the trees in the garden?” “Of course we may eat fruit from the trees in the garden,” the woman replied.  “It’s only the fruit from the tree in the middle of the garden that we are not allowed to eat. God said, ‘You must not eat it or even touch it; if you do, you will die.’” “You won’t die!” the serpent replied to the woman.  “God knows that your eyes will be opened as soon as you eat it, and you will be like God, knowing both good and evil.” The woman was convinced. She saw that the tree was beautiful and its fruit looked delicious, and she wanted the wisdom it would give her. So she took some of the fruit and ate it. Then she gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it, too.
[Genesis 3: 1-6; NLT, BibleGateway.com]

I feel like I've been so harsh on the first two people who existed.  There’s so many other options, I think to myself,  why did you have to choose the one that was disobeying God?  

As if their goal was to separate themselves from ultimate beauty and perfect love. As if the thoughts in their mind were something along the lines of “today I want my actions to go against the Lord of Heaven’s Armies.” As if they were thinking about the bigger picture. As if they were thinking about the character of God that they had come to know: was this idea that He could be holding back from us in line with His nature? I don’t think they thought about any of that.

You know what?
When we find ourselves sinning, I don’t think we think about any of that either.

The serpent -that embodiment of evil and sin- knows how to veer us off course. Disobedience doesn't normally look like an active choice to go against the Father; generally, it looks the same as how it did with Eve, an idea that God's plans for us are holding back, and that we can fill the gaps and take matters into our own hands. 

The only difference is that Sin is no longer a talking serpent; it's the people around us, it's our own minds, it's the world that screams loud about "independence" and "bigger is better" and "what feels good has to be good for you".  Sin is still deceitful, and God is still good, wanting to meet with us, wanting what is best for us. 

Sin still whispers into our ears, lying about God, telling us that He's not who He says He is. Twisting His words. Trying to break down the foundations we stand on. The serpent decieves us, so we eat. We take part in the fruit that kills us, in the disobedience that breaks us down.

I still feel like I've been too harsh on Eve, on Adam.  They drank the Kool-Aid of believing they know what's best, yes. So have I.  Sin convinced them that disobedience wasn't as detrimental as it really is, just as it's done countless times in my story and just as it will do more times in my life and in the world today.

Be on guard. Have faith in who God is. Take an active part in crushing the serpent's head and thank God for having His heel bruised in order to save the likes of us.

Eden is coming reconciling with creation in the Kingdom of Heaven's invasion. Let's know who our Maker is and know that His way is best.

"There's grace for you, too."

You know, I could sit and say those words to just about anyone. I’m learning how love does things, and how grace and mercy move and dance and coexist. I love getting the opportunity to share that with people, and to grow to show humanity a little more of who God is. Abba is showing me what living loved actually means, how to live in the arena, heart and head all-in, loving recklessly.

But then, what do I tend to do? I get antsy. I get into “strive” mode rather than “His beloved” mode. 

Now this switch in focus isn’t always easy to spot. For me, when I start wanting to work harder and earn something from God, I go the extra mile. Or maybe the extra ten.  That’s kind of my nature; I like hard work.  I study more. Read more. Listen to more podcasts and more sermons, write more poems and paint more. Hang out with more people. Volunteer more. I busy myself with “more”. I exhaust myself and physically and emotionally run on fumes and call it "holy".

I forget that He rested on the 7th day.

I get so mad at myself for slipping up, for not doing enough or being enough, for saying a curse word again or getting mad, for making mistakes or for being tired. I hold these grudges against myself as if I’m the one thrown into the middle of the high-and-mighty religious leaders, but I stay ready to stone myself to death even when they dropped the rocks and left.

I forget that He does not condemn me.

We’re all so hard on ourselves. Maybe you’re not like me, maybe you aren’t as hard on yourself in this way as I am. But I do think there’s heaps of truth in the saying that we are our own worst critics. We replay our mistakes in our head like broken record players, we stop expecting anything good or beautiful to come from these lives we live, we work our tails off just to try and earn a love that’s infinitely out of our pay grade, we make ourselves up so our brokenness doesn’t show anymore, we accept a fate of feeling worthless or unloved because we believe it’s the truth, we try so hard to look good and to do good and we burn out, we let the shadows of our stories define us as if we’re nothing more than a tally sheet of screwups. 

We forget that He asks us to get up.

We forget that He just wants to be with us. 

We forget that He delights in us. 

We forget that striving isn’t fruitful.

We forget that there’s grace for us, too.

I don’t know where you’re at in life. I don’t know who I’m talking to when I type “you”. All I know is that I’m sitting on my living room floor wondering why I work so hard to try and earn His attention when He’s already delighted in me. I'm wondering why I'm so hard on myself when I know I'd never be this hard on anyone else in my pair of shoes. I forget whose I am. I forget that He's got lots of room and I don't have to work hard to be seen. I forget I'm a person, and we're all trying to make it to tomorrow and we're all keeping our head up in hope for a better world and we’re all human beings well acquainted with exhaustion, and God knows that and He wants us to be honest about it. He wants us to know there’s so much grace to go around, there’s room to run and to rest and to break and to heal. 

 He just wants us to keep our eyes on Him, and whether that means listening to a sermon or taking a nap or seeing a friend, we must remember that we’re not tiny gods. We don't have it all together. Humanity is ineffably flawed but His grace is sufficient in the places we can’t be “superhuman”, or even pretend to be. Thank God for that, hey.

There’s grace for us, too. Let’s walk in it.

All It Took Was A Step Outside.

I was driving home after a long, busy day that turned into a busy night.
The sun had set a while back, it was calm. Cloudless. Skies as clear as I had seen in a long time.
I was talking to God about anything running through my brain, anything that was weighing on me that day. Honestly, I don't remember. But, I do remember that the sky was beautiful. I could see so many stars, and I was staring up at the sky too long to be considered driving wisely, so I pulled over. Headlights off. Nobody there. I just sat there, me, my little car and Jesus, and we talked.

Something in me told me to step outside. I opened my door, and just sat for a while longer, but I still felt like I was supposed to actually step outside. I felt like God wanted me to step outside. So, eventually I did. As soon as both feet were touching the ground, I saw a shooting star in that splatter-painted sky. Like, literally, as soon as my right foot stepped out of my car and onto the asphalt, the shooting star blazed by.

The thing to say about this is that God uses moments like these to teach me a lot about Him, about me, about life. And in that moment, the moment that I finally got out and did what He asked of me, stepping outside with both feet planted onto solid ground, something marvelous happened.

Maybe we forget that God could have made the world incredibly boring. Maybe we don't realize that the stars, the ocean, the trees, flowers, color, sight, sound,.. None of it needed to exist. But He created it all anyways, just for us. He knew we'd love smelling the roses. Music. Dancing. Swimming. Climbing. Surfing. Stargazing. And I think these things can give us glimpses of His character.

So with this, with my two awkward feet on the road and my tired body leaning up against the dusty car, God showed me how easily I can be swayed to take life as a bystander. I sit in my car so often and think that the view is fine, reluctant to get out of the comfy seat with the comfy A/C and the good music playing out my stereo, but then He asks me to pull over, turn the car off, open my door and engage, let myself be swallowed up in the majesty of the universe, all because He wants to show Me how great He is again, and He wants to tell me He loves me again. I forget how great He is so easily, in big moments and little ones, because I settle for the "good enough" view when He wants to give me the best one.

Maybe this post makes sense and maybe it doesn't. But as for that night, I'm glad God didn't stop asking me to get out of the car. He wants to bless us in the little ways and in the big ones; did you know that? Maybe it's not the miracles we label as miracles, but maybe it's in moments like this one, where He makes Himself known by actually talking to us and reminds us of the beautiful world He made, all for us.

That night, I was reminded of how small I am, and how big my Father is, how much He loves me, and how good His plans are, and all it took was a step outside.

I like flowers and I like taking pictures of them. I like this flower because I think the way flowers age is mighty beautiful. And this one, this one stood out to me. Honestly, I think this flower is a lot more tangible with its petals curled, with the edges brown, there's life that's been lived.

Maybe there's something to learn from the flowers, maybe there's beauty in the life that we live and in showing our frayed edges like our hearts on our sleeves. 

I don't think that we're made to be fake flowers. I don't think our destiny is immutability.

I think there's beauty in the way our petals curl and blessings sprouting from letting the mess show.