of waiting [pt.2: the answer]

as I was praying earlier, wrestling through what I feel like will quite possibly be some imminent decisions I laid it out.  Do I need to keep waiting (really?) or can I move on?  And as I laid in my cushiony bed, wrapped in a cozy blanket, I could only hope that the answer would be clearly written on the mountains as the sun sets.

before you keep reading I encourage you to read 

[pt.1: the question] 

or you may find yourself a little lost in 

what the significance of these thoughts are.

It didn’t quite happen that way.  I was catching up on my blog reading, when I came across a line that struck so much truth that I almost started to cry; I haven’t felt this clear of a word from the Lord in a long time:

“…but I know that the “EXCEEDINGLY ABUNDANTLY MORE” is happening RIGHT NOW in our lives…in the waiting process…in the trusting…I have to continually be in situations that allow for God to do the impossible.”

what was the rest of this blog about (read it here)?  this amazing woman’s year, and how she - when she is forced - had to choose a word to describe 2014.  that word?  “fullness.”  what’s part of my answer to waiting?  living life to the fullest.

and so I ask myself: am I living life in its absolute fullest sense while I'm waiting?  what is the fullest sense of life?  is the top of the mountain worth it?  because I feel like I've been waiting for the fulfillment or the answer or the end of some things for what feels like a tragically long time.  and sometimes - a lot of times - I feel done.  I'm done waiting.  I'm over it.  I just don't care anymore.  that’s how I felt today.

But the truth is...I do care.  I'm not over it.  I'll keep waiting.  I'm not done.  The best is always yet to come.  And I know I won't give up, not because I don't want to, but because it's not up to me.  It's up to the One who created this mountain, the One who created me to climb this mountain, the One who beckons me to trust.

in my "about me" I write that I love the struggle.  and I do.  because I know it's in the struggle - it's in the waiting - that we discover the crucial truths that God speaks over us.  It's in the waiting that obedience can flourish - if we choose the narrow path.  Oh yes there are many paths.  But the one that our Creator has us on is the narrow one, and it's not always the most clear or appealing.  And I think that's because even if He gave us each a map outlining every twist, turn and step we needed to take, we'd still question it.  I'm in a place right now of waiting on something that I felt the Lord spoke very specifically to.  A lot of these things I doubt, all the time, every day, sometimes every hour.  So no, I don't think knowing all the answers makes it easier - I think it forces us to keep trusting just as much as knowing "nothing" does.

This trek up the mountain is certainly not close to being done, but I wanted to share one more piece of insight that was made known to me recently.  It's a truth that we often replace with our own hope and self constructed ideas of a wonderful life.  and it’s quite the not-so-secret truth of it all.

I know what the top of the mountain looks like.  Though I can't see it, I know what it is.  And for a long time I thought the mountain top was the next best thing that I was waiting for.  but it's not.  there aren't several mountains that I'm climbing - there's one.  Just one.  Along the way there are huts - some are more extravagant and comfortable than others, but they are all critical stops along the way.  In my life these huts are better known as things like graduating high school, moving to Australia, meeting Jesus, good conversations with the kids at youth group, being free to go to university, going on dates, finding rest...they're all things that I - at one point or another and in some capacity - waited for.  And I made it to each of those places, and then I moved on.  And so here I am, waiting to get to the next stop.  And I think I know what that hut will look like and I know exactly how I'll feel when I get there - but I don't.  All I know is that it will be a much needed, necessary, and - in it's own unique way - wonderful stop on the way to the top.  So what’s the top?  What’s that hope that I can trust will be there and be fulfilling when I finally get there?

Christ.

Shocking, I know!  You so were not expecting that answer.  But hear me out a minute.

Yes, I can trust that God will bring me to each hut and that it will be way better than I really could every expect, and yes I will find it hard to wait to get there despite knowing that I can trust Him.  But all of those huts are just stops along the way.  They aren't the end goal.  My end goal is glorious eternity with my Saviour.  My end goal is the beautiful day when Christ comes to take me home.  That's the top of the mountain.  And how do I know it's there?  Because I have proof that it exists.  I may not see it now, it may be fully clouded over; I may not know where the next hut is along the way - but I know my guide, and I know what He fashioned the top of this mountain to look like.  And if it wasn’t for the everlasting hope that I can find in knowing that eternity will be…stunning, wonderful, perfect, amazing…no one word can capture it.but it wasn’t for that hope, there wouldn’t be a hope to ever climbing this mountain.  there wouldn’t be an end to the means.  but there is.  there is a point.  there is a purpose for each tear or joy filled moment - and it’s in knowing that we will live forever with our perfect and loving Creator King.

my hope today isn't that you find all your answers, but you recognize the struggles of the journey, you embrace them, and you refocus what your mountain top is - because it's the same as mine.  It took me years to realize this, and as it's a very recent understanding I know it will continue to take me years to really come to a conviction that this mountain top is the best mountain top that could and does ever exist.

keep waiting.  and when you can't hear God beckon, "trust me," then look up that clip from X-Men and let Wolverine speak truth to you.

of waiting [pt.1: the question]

sometimes I can't see the top.  it's covered in clouds, fog, smog.  sometimes on the way up the mountain I lose sight of the top.  I collapse into a fit of frustration, pain, anger.  the confusion of having to wait another day, another week, month - year?  I kick the ground, I dig my nails into the dirt til I feel it thick against my skin, I yell til I echo all the way back to the base where I started.  I'm done.  I'm finished with this climb, this mountain.  I can't see the top.  it doesn't exist.  there is no means because there is no end - therefore this is the end.  So I lay there, willingly letting my own self inflicted sorrow rush over me, and I wait.  waiting - always waiting - for some kind of salvation.  

sometimes you can't see the top of the mountain.  quite literally.  some mornings here in Pokhara you cannot see the mountaintops - there's a combination of cloud and smog that create a haze over the mountains that make you think they don't even exist anymore.  In fact, often if you hadn't seen them before, you wouldn't even believe they are there.

this is how I often feel in life.  I question what defines the top of the mountain.  I wonder what I am painstakingly, honestly, and in many cases thankfully and joyfully, working towards.  what am I really waiting for in this life?

one thing that struck me - a truth I think I've been *waiting* for - is that I don't think God gets annoyed at this frustration.  this childish stubbornness that I so frequently buckle to.  God is always so gracious.  it's like He knows the surrender would come, and He's not annoyed when it finally manifests.  It's like He's there with me and He lets me get it all out - then He urges me to TRUST Him that He knows the top of the mountain exists.  He reminds me there are better places along the way to stop at then here - this narrow, rocky precipice of the path that is an unavoidable part of the journey.  He tells me this is not the end nor an ideal place of rest - but that somewhere up ahead is.  And the truth is - I don't know what that place is.  I don't know what it looks like.  I wouldn't know to stop there if I came across it.  All of my trust is placed in the hands of my Creator.

The other day I was watching the latest X-Men and there's a line in it that stuck out to me.  Wolverine and the Professor are in the jet, making their way to Washington.  Wolverine is asking the Professor to promise that no matter what the outcome of what is about to happen that the Professor needs to gather mutants and restart his school.  The scene ends with Wolverine saying, "Trust me."  Not the most complicated and profound of statements - but it struck me.  Wolverine knew the future.  He knew the outcome of what had previously happened.  He knew and had experienced the benefits of Charles Xavier's school, and he knew that even if their mission now failed, the school had to be opened because of all of the good that would come from it.  Wolverine knew the good that would come from the school.  Wolverine had seen and experienced the outcome, and he was fully qualified to offer "trust me" to Professor X in that scene.

That's what God says to us.  When I'm at my end - when I'm lying in the dirt, cold, exhausted and stubborn - He says, "trust me."  He is the only one that can confidently offer those words to me wherein I should be able to respond in kind.  I should be able to say "okay" and just *trust*.  There is no reason for me not to trust God.  He knows there's a top to this mountain.  He created the top of this mountain.

Goodness sakes.

but it's in the waiting that we somehow need to trust.  and that's just really hard.

I've been putting off writing this because I don't feel worthy of writing it.  No, I'm not having an identity crisis by any means.  But the truth is this: I'm still waiting.

I don't know if I have never been waiting.  Did that make sense?  I mean to say that I am in a constant state of waiting for one thing or another.  We all are.

We wait for tea with our breakfast.  We wait for lunch.  We wait for a dinner that doesn't include rice.  We wait for a break.  We wait to get home so we can cozy up in front of a fireplace and get out of the snowy weather.  We wait for our birthday.  We wait for our pay cheque.  We wait to be in a relationship.  We wait for the perfect date.  We wait for the wedding day.  We wait for the pregnancy. We wait for the results of whether it's a boy or girl.  We wait for the shower gifts so we know what else we need to buy.  We wait for the night when we get a full night's sleep again.  You get the idea - and how it can spiral quickly into always waiting for the next thing.

life is waiting.  the question is how you use your time in the waiting.  because if you can embrace where you are and engage where you're at, life doesn't become about the waiting.  it becomes about the love of living life in it's absolute fullest sense.

and so I ask myself: am I living life in its absolute fullest sense while I'm waiting?  what is the fullest sense of life?  is the top of the mountain worth it?  because I feel like I've been waiting for the fulfillment or the answer or the end of some things for what feels like a tragically long time.  and sometimes - a lot of times - I feel done.  I'm done waiting.  I'm over it.  I just don't care anymore.

But the truth is...I do care.  I'm not over it.  I'll keep waiting.  I'm not done.  The best is always yet to come.  And I know I won't give up, not because I don't want to, but because it's not up to me.  It's up to the One who created this mountain, the One who created me to climb this mountain, the One who beckons me to trust.

check back in a week for of waiting [pt.2: the answer]

of the reality of scripture.

as much as i learned over this past year that i work best in the mornings, late nights will forever be the zone that inspires the most creative flow in my brain.  or it's the fact that i decided to listen to the new steffany gretzinger album ("the undoing") as i fell asleep.  it's a brilliant sound - although it won't put you to sleep, by far.  and that's okay.  everything about this album makes me want to move into a lonely, back country cabin on a lake and write and play that old piano of mine and read the bible and get even more deep and write and write and write til my fingers all fall off.

i don't know when it hit me.  a few years ago i was plagued by the challenge of whether or not i could survive in a room with only a piano, my bible, and Jesus.  sometime in the past year i realized that i was living that challenge.  although i haven't touched a piano since february, i spent more than enough time in a room by myself with just my bible and Jesus.  i couldn't count the number of days and hours i was the only lonely student working in the classroom on the base in Montana.  i also loved rising early and witnessing the sunrises on the base; being awake before the rest of the world was invigorating.  it made me feel so alive.  i relished those moments and breathed deep in the fact that i got to spend another full day studying the bible and growing closer to the ones i loved most dearly.  they were truly the days.  days of love, life, energy, passion, relationship, honesty, tears, desire.  God permeated every inch of my life.  scripture came alive in the beauty and simplicity of that place, and friends became the family i couldn't have ever even asked for - God knew my needs and filled them to overflowing.  that's an attempt at conveying to you a taste of what SBS was like.  a room.  my bible.  Jesus.  i did it - and thrived.

and then i came home.

i almost feel a stab of pain when i write that.  not that i want to, either.  i'll be honest - i had feared coming back.  things got so comfortable that i didn't want to leave the family, the environment, the love...i would experience random bursts of excitement while still in Montana about coming home when i would think of driving down familiar roads, seeing familiar faces, playing familiar games.  i would absolutely soak in those moments, wrapping my hope of being home in them knowing that they would soon be real.  i love it at home; really i do.  for a long time i expected my heart to forever feel at home in this town, with these people, safely enclosed by the walls of this house.

but i got home and none of those anticipated feelings came.  the first week was overwhelmed by pain; a dear friend and mentor, a woman who believed in me, hoped in me, and prayed for me went home to be with the Lord.  I am sure her homecoming was sweet and joy filled; it's this side of heaven that will miss her.  the same day another absolutely loving soul lost her husband to a sudden heart attack.  these losses are not about me at all, and i do not suffer nearly as much as those most closely involved. amidst some other painful personal news i felt at such a loss for how i was supposed to support these friends, love them, share the hope i had so infused myself with over the past 9 months.  it's like i was hit with the reality of the need for living out scripture within the first 36 hours of being home.  my heart is still in pain of the depth of loss that not only these friends but this world suffers on a daily basis, and at how much of a loss i feel at knowing what to do about it.

i was watching the history channel the other night with my dad.  there was a show on about some people hunting bears in alaska.  during a commercial break there was a short ad for the channel where it's slogan was spoken, and it was something like "this is history now."  in response i said to my dad, "really?  this is history?  is this what we're going to be remembering years and years from now as history?  a bunch of people hunting for bears?" with so much else going on in the world right now that's worthy of being history we're allowing ourselves to tune out and be entertained by people hunting bears and bidding on old storage containers with hidden treasures and old bearded men finding gold nuggets in the yukon.  are we really doing this?  i know i'm totally guilty of zoning out and watching the Jays play and watching rerun after rerun of friends, so know i am not innocent and i am talking most to myself.  my heart absolutely broke a little over a month ago when i heard the news of the brutality of what ISIS was doing.  i wept.  uncontrollably.  i wept over the fact that there is so much pain in the world.  i wept over the fact that i can't stop it in one defensive and smart action.  i wept because i'd allowed myself live in the comfortability of being naive - something i'd spent the previous 5 years speaking passionately about.  i wept because i live in freedom when other people are dying for their faith.  i wept because i got to sleep in a comfortable bed where i could stretch out and cozy up into my blankets when there are people in the world who were running for the lives and sleeping in caves.  i wept until i felt there were no tears left, all the time feeling at such a loss for how to respond.

the reality of scripture is something much more weighty than i realized while i studied it over 9 months.  being faced with such pain daily forces you to consider how you're living out the truth of scripture that so desperately needs to leave those precious pages and fall to the earth through the actions of my hands.  it's challenged me almost daily since being back [as it rightly should] about how i need to steward the knowledge i now possess.  i gotta say, the family i made in SBS made it easy to love them; they were beyond fabulous, kind, caring, sweet, amazing people. each person i was privileged to have relationship with was deeply selfless and it only inspired me to inch my way closer to that place too.  but in leaving that community i truly re-entered a world where safety isn't common, vulnerability is shunned, and naivety seems to be the norm.  and in those first few weeks of being back i didn't turn to the security of the Word i'd come to so know and love for comfort.  it was as if i saw the brokenness of the world and quickly implicitly decided Scripture held nothing against the selfish and enticingly evil rituals of this world.  i was pushed to understand what it meant to actually live out what i'd learned - and not in the comfortability of a community that is inspiring me to do so.

i'll be honest: i'm still waiting to feel at home.  i've gone through this summer searching for something.  i don't even know what it is.  i've wrestled with understanding how to combat the monotony and complacency that seems do dominate our culture.  and as much as i'm still waiting and searching, i've concluded the simplest of simple things.

the reality of scripture means loving Jesus and loving others.  straight up, i know.  but really when it comes down to it, the best way for me to fight the evil in this world is to see the needs of those around me, and fulfill them as i can. the best thing for me to do is benefit others at my own expense, so the words of one very wise man would lead me to write down with conviction.  countless times i've repeated this phrase to myself in those moments when i just didn't want to love.

the pain in this world is a reality, but the other reality is that Christ came once and for all and has already won.  the reality of scripture dictates that this world isn't what it's about.  we're sojourners on this earth, called to live and love.  no matter where God's placed you - war torn Iraq, disease plagued West Africa, messy streets of Amsterdam, rural suburbs of Atlanta, sunny streets of Brisbane or a small town in Ontario - you're there for a reason.  you're there- i'm here - because God has a plan for you there.  you're not there by mistake.  if He wanted you somewhere else - anywhere else - He would have put you there.  it's that real, people.  He would have put you there.  But you're where you are.  so don't beat yourself up over it.  realize that if you're still searching for "that something bigger" it'll come.  but in the meantime don't sit around - love the next person you see or pick up the phone and make a date of it.  engage in that long conversation you "don't" have time for.  buy that coffee with your extra $5.  donate that money that missions team needs that you were just given or earned for your savings.  ask someone out for breakfast.  visit your grandparents.  whatever it is, proclaim and act on the love that Christ has allowed you to understand and experience by the grace of his life.

let's together create a new reality that reflects scripture where we are.

of loving like Jesus.

last summer I was driving through the main intersection in the city closest to me, and I saw a man begging for money.  This isn't something I regularly see coming from a small town, and I don't think I'd ever seen anybody standing on that little piece of cement to separate the lanes at this intersection before in this particular nearby city before.  I was immediately reminded of a very dear friend of mine who had once told me that she often gives money to homeless people as she knows how desperate many of them are just for a simple coffee or small meal, regardless of shelters or other places that offer to supply basic needs.  Her brothers had been an addicts, living on the streets, for years, and she was able to testify by their lives of the needs homeless people have that do go deeper than just finding the next fix such as the need to be loved, valued, honoured - the same things that all of us need.  More often than not when we see homeless people begging for money we assume the worst: "They'll probably spend it on drugs and alcohol!"  As I drove away from that man, without rolling down my window and avoiding eye contact, I was struck with the conviction that I should have just given him some money.

Last week I was visiting with my sister outside of Vancouver, where there is a very large homeless population.  We were at an intersection and there was a man standing there begging.  I was reminded and flung into this internal struggle about what to do.  A part of me was brought back to the summer when I didn't give, but as we once again drove away I realized I missed the opportunity for a second time.  A couple days later we were at another intersection and saw a man standing there with a little sign.  It was pouring rain that day (as it often does in Vancouver) and I knew that this would be the time.  He was on the drivers side, and my sister was driving, so I whipped out my wallet and had her put down her window and give the man some money.  After her window was shut and he walked by she turned to me and said, "That much!  Why did you do that!?  He'll probably go spend it on drugs!"  I don't know if I even reacted...I probably said something like, "yeah...well..." very meekly.  I didn't have an answer about why I gave him money, I just knew I should.

This week while reading through 1 John I was convicted once again about giving, but this time I was also given my reason why.  I read,

"By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers.  But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him?  Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth."

It was here when I understood.  We assume and think, "Why would you do that!?  They'll just go spend it on drugs!" which holds us back from offering from what is usually an abundance.  Then I thought about the love that Christ gave to us.  How He stepped out of heaven to enter our incredibly broken world.  I wonder if there was anybody there when He left His perfect surroundings to say, "Why would you do that!?  They're going to reject you!  They're going to keep lying and stealing and killing and sleeping around!"

Jesus knew what we'd do with the gift He gave us.  He knew we'd do drugs, and get drunk, and sleep around, and lie to our parents about it, and betray our friends.  He knew it.  And He still gave us everything He had.

So why shouldn't I give that homeless guy some money?  I don't even know what He'll do with it.  And it's just a bit of money, and I would have really liked to have Starbucks later on that day.  I can get over it.  Who knows if that money was just the thing he needed - that kindness was something that affirms to him that there are people who care, and this drives him on to do desire to live another day.  I don't know if that money will bring him the smile he needs or help him buy the warm meal he hasn't had in weeks or if he'll bring it home to his family or if he'll buy a bunch of alcohol.  I don't know.  I don't know the outcome.  But Christ knows that loving people is worth it and He sees the outcome and He works in ways that are bigger and mightier and more mysterious then I could every actually understand.

This doesn't make me some awesome person whose heart is so pure and willing to toss my money at people.  I will more then likely turn a blind eye to the next 20 homeless people I see.  But I pray that the Lord is igniting an awareness in me to love as He loved, to give myself to people because I don't know the outcome.  He knew the outcome and He loved us more than that.

I want to love like that.

erika

of risking it all

sometimes your heart just feels so raw that even something that is distantly related to whatever it is your heart is wrestling with scratches the surfaces and opens the wound that you thought was just closing.

alright - that's a bit dramatic, but I bet you can relate.  Of course it is the start of a brand new year and it's almost expected in the blogging world for writers to throw out some long wisdomous article about resolutions and not keeping them and in turn offer a much better idea about how to make this year the best ever.  Well I have no such wisdom to offer, just a piece of my heart in regards to some things that have been stewing.

It's seems that this idea about living in the moment has been popping up all over the place in my life recently.  Articles about it surface on my blog feed or somebody says something about it in passing or the chapter in my devotional focuses on it.  It seems like there's been an idea that's been running parallel to living in the moment and it can be summed up in one little, dangerous four letter word:

r i s k

If anybody knows me they know that I haven't gone to the movie theatre much in the past number of years as I boycotted it for a year, thinking that the prices at the local theatre had gone up, which after a year of striking it turned out it hadn't, but to save face and pride I just continued to boycott the place, only with a few...leniencies.  I would either go on cheap night, if someone else is paying, or if it's a must-not-miss.  The final category typically means anything nerd related or book to movie - that said I've basically only seen the Star Trek's, Harry Potter's, Hobbit's, and Hunger Games movies at the theatre, that I've paid to see, in the past 3-5 years.  There was one exception which was Beauty and the Beast in 3D...but that one's understandable.  If you'd like a full list, I could probably give it to you (it's likely only 3-5 more movies long).  All that said, I went to the movies this week (using a 2 for 1 coupon, thank you very much) and saw The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.  As I haven't seen anything non-trilogy or Disney related in the past number of years, we could consider this an Erika-style risk.  Not too outlandish, there was no chance of near death or getting wet, I didn't have to articulate or confess my love for anyone and I didn't pay full price for the two tickets we needed to get into the show.  Pretty safe deal if you ask me.  I'd also seen the previews and it seemed that the running theme of the movie was just thing I was going to fully avoid in seeing the movie: risk.

Now I'm not one to promote movies (since I never see enough to promote them) but I do highly recommend Walter Mitty.  I have always loved Ben Stiller (yes, Zoolander included) so I had pretty high hopes that I trusted wouldn't be dashed.  Plus the previews had been engaging and I figured if all else failed, there would be a few treasured moments to consider and that's all I was looking for, really.  If you don't know the premise the movie is about this guy, Walter Mitty played by Ben Stiller, who tends to zone out and live in his head, imagining alternate situations to the reality that he's living.  He works at a magazine as the guy who ensures the quality of the cover photos that are sent in by the magazines photojournalist - a man who travels the world to capture life's most beautiful moments.  It just so happens that the magazine is transitioning to online only, working on publishing their last copy of the physical magazine, and Stiller's character somehow loses the negative of the cover shot.  In order to find this final cover shot, he goes on a quest to find the formidable photographer himself - a man named Sean O'Connell, played by Sean Penn.  Walter Mitty, all the while, sees himself in his head as a comical, sweet, smart and clever guy who gets the girl, when in life he's a quiet, soft spoken, spacey and shy kinda guy.

It's ironic as just a few months ago I was reading about and dialoguing with a few people about the concept of phantom relationships (shout out to Shellie!) and then this movie comes out that basically sums up the idea.  The thing that drew me into seeing the movie was that it seemed that there had to be an out to his fantasy world.  As someone who has lived frequently in my own head, risking much and gaining as much in the alternate realities of my own little worlds I knew I would be able to relate to the story this film was sure to offer.  I figured at some point there had to be a settling in of a reality that was full of life, laughter and love for this guy who so easily left his world for the alternate that he'd created.  As the movie progressed we watched as his little moments of spaciness faded into him actually doing risky (albeit, quite unlikely, but entertaining and yes very risky) things like flying in a helicopter with a drunken pilot before jumping from that helicopter into the ocean where he's fights a killer shark, all the while giant waves crash around him and the rescue boat circles, whose drives lift him away from his death as the shark tries one final time to capture Walter between his teeth.  It's all a very dramatic scene, but not too far off some of the fantasies we had previously played out by Walter in his head.  This realistic situation is highly unlikely, sure, but it does make me wonder what would happen if we started to risk more.  I won't give you the whole story, I will just say see it and be inspired.  It will be worth your time and money.

I've noticed in the past few months, as God challenged me to live in the moment more that I've lived in my head a whole heck of a lot less.  In fact, just a couple days before my Christmas holidays began my roommate asked me how I was dealing with some things.  She asked me how the living in the future in my head, in regards to the situation at hand, was going.  I realized that I hadn't once considered any possible future scenarios since I had started to deal with the thing she'd asked me about (hopefully you tracked with that).  You see, throughout Walter Mitty Stiller's character does the same thing: the more he engages with life at hand the less he lives with the what-if's and could-possible-be's that he previously created in his head.

Last night I as I was reading from Love Does by Bob Goff (I will also quickly plug and recommend this book!) he shared poignantly the characteristic of God that I feel the Lord has been trying to reveal to me as of late:

"Every day God invites us on [an] adventure.  It's not a trip where He sends us a rigid itinerary, He simply invites us.  God asks what it is He's made us to love, what it is that captures our attention, what feeds that deep indescribable need of our souls to experience the richness of the world He made.  And then, leaning over us, He whispers, "Let's go do that together.""

I spent the late breakfast and early lunch hours with some dear souls the other day.  They were friends that I'd met and spent 3 months living on the beach with in Australia when I was 19, and they are some of the most life giving people I'm blessed to call friends.  While together I thought I'd bring up with them one of my more recent quanderings.  It has to do with marriage and why we should get married, besides procreation, if marriage is something that in Scripture we learn is not eternal, yet there seems to be so much focus in the New Testament about eternal perspective.  It has felt to me, as of late, that marriage lacks an eternal purpose, and if I am to live with this eternal perspective...where does something that is not eternal fit in?  As I presented this apparent dilemma to my friends, one responded with a simplicity that is often forgotten as we consider the reasons Christ came - for joy.  Marriage brings joy.  And why not do something that makes you joyful?  And that in turn offers bliss to someone else?

If you follow my ponderings you'll know that I have been focusing on finding my bliss, acknowledging what that is, believing it and then walking in it.  You'll also know that in the summer I wrestled with why I would want to get married when I hear so much about terrible marriages and how hard they are and the upset expectations and dashed dreams and hopes of so many couples.  Why would I want something that seemed so lacking of joy?  I was reassured at the time that marriage really is worth it - the key is being selfless.

As I consider the past few months I realize that the most joy filled experiences came when I risked giving away what I thought I needed in order to love someone else with what little, broken piece of me I had left.  The bliss has been abundant and as I find myself in a place where sometimes my heart does feel raw and near to shattering it seems like there's actually a whole new piece of me that I'm learning to understand.  And it has a lot to do with the independent person that I've built myself up to be.  I shut out experiences that demand a vulnerability that I'm not comfortable with, and as much I as choose to lay down my supposed need to love on others, I question if that is simply putting up a new wall to shut out the possibility of some new, joy filled yet incredibly vulnerable - ergo terrifying - experience that I've always wanted but never deemed possible of the reality that I'm a part of.

As I laid awake last night considering all of these things, these thoughts that have been swirling in my brain, I found myself stumbling upon a new kind of a hope.  This hope believes it is okay to believe in a joy filled marriage, and that it's not only highly possible but it's highly probable.  This hope believes in a pleasure filled marriage full of new experiences to greet new levels of vulnerability that were previously terrifying to consider.  This hope believes risks can be grand and sometimes result in pain, but more often result in understanding a piece of a frightened girls character that has locked itself away for a very long time.  This hope believes risk brings joy and a trust that settles deep into her being, building on the foundation of The unshakeable Rock.  This hope believes there's no magazine article or blog post that has a magic formula for finding that man that she's been patiently awaiting, but there's a Master Planner whose scheming is holy and exciting and worth hoping in.  This hope believes she's a great cook, an entertaining conversationalist, an enjoyable adventurist, a sports [mostly watching, but not opposed to playing] enthusiast, a fierce and caring friend and most importantly a loving soul of the great Love Himself.  This hope believes in a girl who is worth it to someone else.  This hope believes this girl is me, and I have nothing to lose in 2014 knowing that Christ has fought for my joy and already won.

This year I will redefine what Erika-style risks are.  I'll believe in hope, in love, in faith, in trust, in joy, in grace and most of all in healthy risk.  This year is going to be stinking awesome, and we're going to dance about it as often as we can.

let's make some awesome in 2014, loves.

erika