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Easter 2019

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Do you ever feel inadequate? Do you ever feel unworthy to be loved by God? Me too. But that’s when we need to remember the cross. When we need to remember that God sent his Son to die for us. To die. God. The Son. DIE. As one of us. God became like us. He took our place. He took our sins upon himself. He who was sinless became sin for us. God died for us. He knew what it was to be forsaken by God, so we would never have to be. We couldn’t save ourselves, so he did it for us. So, yeah. We are inadequate. We are unworthy. But we are loved. We are loved so deeply we cannot even imagine. We are held so tightly we don’t even know. But sometimes all we see are our faults. We see the ways we fail to measure up. We see the ways we fail God. We see our sin. Our mistakes. Our failures. How can you love me, God? How can you forgive me? But God doesn’t see our failure anymore. He doesn’t lord it over us. He doesn’t rub it in our faces, and ask “why aren’t you bette
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Closing Prayer of 2018

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As the year comes to a close, I felt the desire to praise God and share it with you. Here goes: Dear God, I love you. I adore you. I praise you. I thank you for all the blessings you’ve given me this year. For good health news, for myself and others. For having a job. For having a good church community. For being alive. But I also need to praise you for the dark moments, don’t I? For the feelings of worthlessness. For the anxiety. For the worry. For the endless battles with OCD. I know you do not enjoy it when I go through pain. I know you do not like to see me troubled and upset. But it’s necessary, isn’t it? Necessary to my growth and for my relationship with you. So God I praise you for all the broken moments this past year has held, and I pray that you carry me through all the broken moments I know are coming next year. My God, I love you. And you are what I want most for Christmas. Though we both know this isn’t true all the time. There is doubt. There are mo
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Quiet Time or All the Time?

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Every once in a while I think about planning/scheduling, but rarely do I ever stick with it. Actually, never. Or at least not long term. But I keep coming back to it for some reason. Don’t know why. I think because almost everywhere you look, productivity blogs and such tout it as some super great life hack to get a million and one things done in a week. I get that planning can be very beneficial for some, but maybe it’s just not for me. Or maybe I just need to figure out the method that works for me. Regardless, what planning got me thinking about was how we approach “quiet time” with God. On a side note, I don’t like the term “quiet time”. It just bothers me. I’m not trying to attack people who do like it, or anything. If you like it go ahead and stick with it. I think it might be the whole idea/the approach we have to quiet time that bothers me. I did call quiet time “open and raw moments with God” for a bit though :) I tried planning for a little bit ago, and I would put
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Shambles

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I feel like my life is in shambles sometimes. Like I am floating through it with no idea where to go. Like I am bouncing back and forth, trying to decide the “right” move. Like I’m stuck in some sort of limbo and wondering if I’ll ever get out. Like everything is cricking, or cracking. Breaking, and shattering. But on the surface is a smooth piece of glass that says: I’m doing fine. You don’t need to worry. I don’t need to worry. I’m doing fine. I’m not doing fine. I’m doing well enough, I suppose. I have plans, I suppose. But still there is that never ending, always there, lingering doubt. It never quite goes away. Then there’s the shame. Shame for not doing better. Shame for not being further along in life. Shame for not having it all together. Shame for failing. I heard once that millennials were all about “now”. Getting what they wanted now , and not waiting. Achieving everything now. But I wonder if th
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Thoughts on 2018

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So tomorrow is 2018. And I’m just realizing how long it has been since I wrote a blog post. I don’t really know what happened. I had intentions. Good intentions (road to hell is paved with good intentions :) But then I think Christmas and working eight and nine hour shifts, and not getting enough sleep, and lots of things happening happened. But even before that it was kind of off track. I did have some blog posts or blog post type things written, but I never did post them. I might in the New Year, though. But anyway I want to talk about now and 2018. I sort of went through the same thing I did last year. Christmas was good. It’s hard not to like Christmas. It’s magical and filled with hope, and wonder, and forgiveness. And then it’s over and it’s like oh crap, where the hell is my life even going? How did another year go by and I’m still not where I thought I would be. I’m not even really closer like at all to where I wanted to be. What the hell is wrong with me? Okay. Maybe
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Worthless Is A Lie

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Sometimes I feel worthless. Sometimes I feel like a failure. Sometimes I wonder if I should just give up on my dream. Sometimes I wonder if I should numb the pain with alcohol. Just go to work, and hate my life, and numb the pain emotionally. These are horrible things to think as a person, and as a Christian, but they are there, nonetheless. They’re all lies. They’re things that seem true when you’re trapped in self-despair. Escape seems like the only option, even though it is dull and listless. But you think you’re not worth anything, so escape is all you got. Again, lies. And sometimes I push God away, when I’m like this. More often than not, actually. The one person who I need the most, and I push him away. I’ve thought more than once that I don’t deserve his love. And it’s true. I don’t. You don’t. But it’s not about deserving it, and I know this. But sometimes I feel like I’m not worth saving, and I’m not worth his love. I know there is a difference between being
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Depression Is Not The End

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Once upon a time there was a little girl. A little girl who thought that she was all alone in the world. She had no one who understood her. No friends to confide in. Even her family didn’t really “get” her. They loved her, of course, and she loved them, and they were close, but she didn’t really let them into that dark place inside, at least not all the time.  The little girl would cry week after week because she was alone. She found solace in writing. She found solace in writing out her pain, writing about tearing her body open with knives and letting the blood run free. But none of it really helped. It helped her express herself, and feel like some of that negativity floating around in her was gone. It helped her cope. But it didn’t heal her. This went on for quite some time on and off. Some days were better than other days. Some months were better than other months. Some years were better than other years. But the darkness lingered around her like a dark shroud. The
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