Hanging on a Tree

As I close my eyes I watch the day True Love died—

Dark and somber the heavens of the earth hid the shining of the sun. The world does not know what is about to take place; they dance and twirl in the naivety of their flesh. Men blaspheme against His name, rejecting His kindness and yet He still presses on. I see the blood dripping as He takes each step; smeared by the corner of the wooden cross dragging behind, painfully carried on His raw back. They made Him look like ground beef and yet He keeps walking. I come into the knowledge of what is about to happened and I begin to weep. Louder and louder I reach for Him. God made Man, who has the power to obliterate every breathing soul instead chooses to live in flesh and pain achingly crawls to His death.  The procession of people stop. We are here, atop the hill that will forever be marked as the setting of Love poured out. A hush comes over the earth and every flesh and bone wait upon the silence of this Jewish man disconnected to the truth that He is their Maker. The cross is laid, the metal pierces through His hands, God made flesh now pinned to the wooden pieces of a tree that He at one time created. The blood of Sacrifice drips down and the sound of each drop hitting the ground rings in my ear. How can this happen? How can the One that gave me life die so cruelly? I cannot stand this. I cannot bear this injustice. 

My hands catch the drops of His blood as I sit at the foot of His cross. Dramatically aching for Him to not leave. The Creator of all, the King of kings, Lord of lords, the Incarnate that left His Holy dwelling to be born of a young Jewish woman in a smelly, dirty stable is now dying an unlawful death between two thieves. Flesh being torn from His body, pointed at and ridiculed. This holy man now hangs on a cross and there is nothing I can do, nothing I can say that will stop it. “This is how it must be, this must take place," He whispers, gazing at my painfully regretful face. The fear in my heart purges out and I fall to the ground wanting to just touch Him. I crawl on my knees attempting to get closer, but it feels too late. Did I miss You Jesus? Did I miss Your presence?He looks at me with a stare that is unlike anything I have ever seen before. Pain and sorrow, joy and conquer intricately woven together behind the eyes that will one day be enflamed with fire. —“I will return for you. I will come again to behold you. I will take away pain and tears,”—I lock eyes and cannot move. 

You are hanging on that tree for me. You are feeling the fullness of Your flesh to fulfill the prophesy of Your righteous and Holy plan. Dying a human death so that I may dwell in Your house all the days of my life. This deed is overwhelms me. Your love overtakes me and I cannot breathe. Choked by the beauty of Your sacrifice. Oh Jesus how You wholly and violently love me. With Your death I am made alive. And you made it to be that way. You have saved me. You have saved all of us. When we could not see, You knew. When we walked in the footsteps of foolishness You patiently waited for us to turn the other way. When we desired Your death, You selflessly sacrificed Yourself so that we may forever gaze into those eyes. On the cross You cry to Your father, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.” You ask the Him for forgiveness on behalf of Your torturers. “I love you,” You scream and no one cares to listen. Oh God here I am to hear You. Here I am to worship at Your feet. I put my trust in You. I say yes to You. At the sound of Your last breaths I fall once more and give You everything I am. I will give you myself Lord. I will rest in Your sacrificing presence. Your death is not in vain. Your resurrection is the assurance of Your second coming; You will come back to have your inheritanceMy sins are forgiven and I rejoice in my new birth. Because of your death I am made alive. Because of your resurrection I will meet You again. Because of Your resting place on the holy throne I can feel You now, I can hear Your voice, experience Your emotions until that day You come back to dwell forever with Your beloved. 

The final hour comes and His last breath is expensed. Every emotion consumes me and I am left speechless, looking at the lifeless body, catching the blood of my Redeemer, every drop overtaking my sinful being and washing me whiter than snow.

I See Strings: Results of Sunday Night in the Prayer Room

Just as You hang the stars in the night sky You hold up my very being. Like a puppet I move at Your every word. Clinging as a bee does to its honey, though You are sweeter. Where would I be if You had not caught me, if You had not attached me to Yourself and intricately maneuvered me through every sunrise and sunset. I am your Rose of Sharon and You my morning star and the banner over me is love. We sing, say, preach, these things, but do we really believe it? Do I really believe it? Do I actually believe that when I talk Your heart moves. That when I gaze up at You things in Heaven shake. Oh what love You have for me that You would puppeteer a wretched child like me. 

I look out into the city abyss and see the world attached with strings to the heavens. Each one of Your creations You guide throughout life without fault or missed steps—forever unchanging. Why do You do it God? I must know. I must know how You can love us! How You can look over the balcony, peer into this darkened age, and yet still come for us. Strong like a lion and compassionate as a sheep, You never turn away Your eyes. You never run from Your beloved. As we each day only give you a piece of ourselves You wrap us in all of You. 

I look at the myriad of these strings across this earth, connected every which way—spiraling and crossing and some even zig-zagging—and my heart aches at the size of your love. Even the strings of those who completely deny Your presence are still attached. You still carry them in Your arms patiently waiting for the day their eyes meet Yours. How I cannot even begin to imagine how it feels to have your masterpiece stripped from You. The very ones you blew life into slander Your name, but You keep Your arms open. “Come to me” You say, and yet they do not move towards You. But You still stay. 

Ahh yes, we move You, I move You. I look to the heavens and sing, with my strings intact and my heart open to receive Your love and I know my choice is rightly made. I do not know why, but as my eyes fall on your glorious abode I know that its intensity overwhelms You. I can feel my strings become tighter as I release more of myself to You, but it is a tightness of freedom. I let go and You perfectly guide me. I give up and You rejoice as you passionately scream in my ear, “finally You are here at rest.” Chaos leaves, stress dissipates, and my body is left fully feeling last Thursdays nights ab workout—I’m alive. With my strings attached to the Heavens I look at my at my Beloved and fall down over the beauty of His perfected puppeteer skills and the undying desire to have His inheritance in this Earth. 

Salvation Not Found in a Hallmark Card

What does salvation actually look like? As I re-read the book Radical.  That question has been weighing heavy on my mind for days now and it only has lead to more questions and an aching hunger for God to answer. The intensity of this book is self-explained in its title and has uprooted the beautiful ache of my heart--to return to my First love.

As a sinner I was bound for Hell. For loneliness. For fiery evil and He took me from that. Salvation is not a task I can just cross of my list after completing it. It's an entrance into the narrow path. A gateway into understanding God done through fear, complete abandonment, and wholehearted love for a Man that came down and dragged by body out of the pits of Hell. I can't put salvation in a cute Hallmark card or celebrate it like a birthday party as if its a one day occasion...it's a call to live a lifestyle given over to Christ. We need to stop wasting our time with finding cute phrases of how non-believers can say the magical words and be instantly saved. There are close friends I know that are not saved. Many nights I ponder if they ever really will believe in God. But in truth…many people 'believe' in God...but do they live their lives for Him? Today the church is preaching a nonchalant, easygoing Jesus. They fit and manipulate God's character in a way that works best for them. They work Him in to the areas that need a boost of happiness, give Him two hours of focus on Sunday and Wednesday night bible studies, and think they have mastered the "art of Christianity". But God is completely other than anything we can create Him to be. Salvation should cause us to cringe in our skin at the darkness that surrounds us and drowns us. It should cause us to fear what will happen to us if we don't give everything to Him. It should cause was to have a deep groaning to touch His presence and love Him more each day. If we are to read the Bible for truly what it is we will see that salvation is not a certificate of completion, but an entrance into knowing Him. Salvation is the kindergarten stage of the Kingdom focused education system.

We have settled in our hearts that that one-day when we are feeling hopeless and emotional and we haven't eaten or slept for 12 hours and we say yes to Jesus that that's it. Life as a sinner going to Hell is over and we now sit waiting for our crown and sash. But I refuse to believe that is all. We are a wretched, selfish generation to think that God exists to make our lives comfortable and easy here on earth. As my pastor always says, Please do not hear what I am not saying. I believe that we can't earn anything from God, by His grace He freely gives and enjoys blessing His children, but that is not the sole reason why we were created. We are meant to glorify Him with everything that we have. We can't treat God like a gumball machine that He gives candies to. He's more than that. We are the broken He is the healer. He loves us in our weakness; He loves us through the days we struggle to love back. And He desires that for all the days of our lives we cry out to Him for help.

The Lord is so freaking kind. He waits patiently for that day we look upon Him to be our savior and instantly accepts us into our love, but I can't accept the idea that you say yes to Jesus, live your life as you desire (looking no different from Jesus haters) and still be in perfect union with the King of Kings, Lord of Lords. It doesn't make sense. He deserves more than that. He is worthy of everything we have--all of our attention. We cannot degrade Him to some homework assignment we complete to just maintain happiness and well-being. He isn't some 12-step program we can just go through for six months and graduate. He is a God of process, the finish line to a lifelong marathon. We can't expect to go a fourth of the distance and know Him fully. He is an infinite God--we can never know Him 100%. But that is the beauty. He, in His "I am God, nothing for Me is impossible" ways show us that if we are completely dependent on Him He will take us through.  We are called to run the distance and endure the daily struggle to oppose the world. We are called to choose Him. Every minute say yes to Him. We are called to die to ourselves because when we lose the world, we will gain Him and eternity.

I want to stop preaching the message that we should be saved JUST to escape hell and start screaming at the top of my lungs that He's worthy of our complete adoration simply because He is the Creator. He is the one that made all of this come to be. He is the sole reason of yours existence and mine. He is beautiful and majestic and unlike anything else and for that reason I want to know Him. Not because of what He can do for me in my life, but because of who He is; He gave up everything to be with me so in return I should give Him my small pee-wee anything of a life to Him.

Salvation is the beginning into picking up our cross and denying ourselves. It's a journey of daily dying. I can't just sit back and leave salvation at a small prayer we say to Jesus at a conference one weekend and believe that we are living a life completely devoted to Jesus. Don't you think if this life was just meant to escape Hell then when we say those magic words we'd instantly be in Heaven. But that's not the case. There is a reason we stay on Earth even after we say yes to Him. That is only the beginning. To truly love Him we must obey Him. We must look in the Gospels and follow what He commands. To sell everything, leave the comfort of the world in order to find eternal life. I am not okay with the entire reason of existence being watered down to a short ten second prayer of inviting Jesus into our hearts. Anyone can say it, but can we actually do it? Can we actually allow Jesus to come into our heart and plow out the darkness, the greed, the pride we carry in the accomplishments of the flesh? Can we allow Him to remove everything that the world finds worth in and let it be replaced with the things a poor, Jewish carpenter finds worthy? Can we let Him groom us into vessels for His work instead of attempting to hire Him on staff to maintain our self-proclaimed, self-glorifying cruise ship? Can we lay down the workings of our hands and daily pick up His desire and plans?

Oh how I so badly want to say yes to all of those questions. But in honesty I can't. So many parts of my life are trapped under the fear of man, the disbelief in His PERFECT leadership. so many times I step back and try to fix the flaws myself. I put God on hold until that moment I really need Him. But I always need Him, not sometimes, not just one time. It's impossible for any human who was created to worship the Lord, live in the true fulfillment of their calling and not know Jesus. It's sounds almost like common sense, but we so often look for it somewhere else because its easier than facing a God who offends people through love.

As I leave the comfort of home, say goodbye to the luxury Orange County so openly offers, the cry of my heart is to return to my first love. To once again have that feeling that if I let go of His embrace I will stop breathing; the reality that when I am attached to His presence only then can I survive. I want to lay it all down again and find joy, true joy in doing so. Because nothing is mine, in this world there is nothing I own except a choice of good and evil and what I choose will determine my end, my eternal home. Our bodies may stop working on this earth, but one day, one day we will again rise and every one of us will forever be very, very alive. Where will we be, heaven or hell? The choice in this vapor of life will answer that question. Will it be in the presence of perfect love or the torture of emptiness?

Once again I am declaring abandonment. I am crying out for a spiritual strength to leave everything behind for the One that gave it all. I am a lowly branch connected to the eternal vine and without Him I am nothing.

Lessons Hidden in the Aftermath

Following Jesus is not a promise for an easy life. We do not say yes and in exchange receive an instant happy pill. Unlike our societies fast-food, "I want it now lifestyle", God enjoys a process. He likes leading us step by step and along the way teaching us how to be more like Him. This Christian walk is hard. We will mess up. We will struggle. Our pride will crash and burn in the most inconvenient, embarrassing ways possible.  But that is where God's teaching course begin. He takes our mess ups and transforms our hearts to deal with them like Jesus did.

We can't walk this life with the mindset of how not to fail. If we do, fear of failure will only cripple us into complacency. We are imperfect beings living in an imperfect world. We will mess up--it's inevitable. But it is the aftermath of our failure, of our stupid inevitable hiccups, that God uses to show us how to live a life rooted in Christ. In those moments where our pride is broken and all we want to do is quit and believe the lies that things will never chance we must look at the face of Jesus. We put ourselves lower and repent. We forgive those that have wronged us. We delete the past and move forward into what He has called us to, into the process of loving Him. 

Oh how I am sick of getting caught up in the idea that we all deserve equality or to be treated "fairly".  In all reality our human nature screams sin! We don't deserve kindness. We aren't worthy of forgiveness. We don't even deserve Heaven!  The only reason we have an inheritance is because a sinless Man died on a cross to be with us.  We pride ourselves on being right and not making any mistakes. We attempt to walk through life as the perfect poster child. But God has a different plan. He destroys our pride and teaches us how to walk in humility. That is where we find Him. That is where we grow in love. This life is not a one way ticket to Heaven. Jesus is offensive, He is challenging, but He wins us over when, in that,  He doesn't leave us. He uses those struggles as a stepping stone to dive deeper into His love. His promise is not happiness, it is eternity in perfect love. He likes watching us evolve into loving Him. He smiles when we lower ourselves and forgives despite whether the person deserves it. He enjoys us turning to Him in desperation when our hearts our beaten down and torn to pieces. 

Oh God how Your plan is intricate and detailed and I don't understand it, but I believe it is perfect and for that I open my arms and will follow. Teach me how to love better. How to put on the face of Christ. I want to love the same way you love. I want to be so transparent that as I talk to others they look through me and see You. My flesh is weak; rooted in selfishness, anger, lust. It wages war on my spirit. Help me listen to You and not the voice of my worldly desires. In those moments where my pride is ripped from me and I am left empty, I want to go lower. Take me deeper to the place where I can see You face to face. 

I will endure the process if it means I get to be with You all the days of my live. All of this struggle and pain will be worth it one day. In the midst of a prideful world chisel mine away.  In those moments where I am wrong teach me how to react rightly. Let me walk in humility as Jesus did.
I can't make it on my own. I can't breath without You inflating my lungs. I can't learn without You as my teacher. So come Jesus and reveal to me Your ways. Teach me how to respond in the aftermath of failure. I will follow. 

The Endurance of Burnt Toast

The other day a friend turned to me and said, “Holls… Jesus is actually coming back.” We were sitting on a giant cement block of a World War memorial looking over the Kansas City skyline. I had never been there before this night and I sat staring at the lights that illuminated the night sky. The cars moved, the sound of a train’s horn bounced between the tall buildings and people, each with a story, walked through the winding streets. And so we sat for three hours covering almost every stereotypical conversation that usually occurs when looking out over a city of lights. We were discussing how we sometimes cling to the very things that suck us dry. And in that moment, oh in that sticky mess, how we so badly just want our hearts to align with the logic of our minds. It is at precisely that moment where she mentioned His second coming.

Everything in this life is unto that day where Jesus rolls back the skies and comes for His bride. I feel so often that part in the story becomes a footnote put aside for a later time. It becomes this ethereal thing that each generation lazily and carelessly hands the responsibility over to their children and children’s children. But that only makes us ignorant. The Day the Lord returns should be the center of our life focus always. It should be the one event we prepare for more than any other. Our society is so mesmerized by the accomplishments of the flesh that we often miss the true meaning of life. We cling to comfort. We search for easy living, a day-to-day walk that doesn’t make us too tired or stressed. happiness thought to be found in luxury and accomplishment; the more zeros in our bank account total makes us better than another with one less. But in reality, making our first love a career or house or even a fancy car is nothing in comparison to knowing the Lord. Jesus isn’t going to come back one day and wonder what the interior of our car looks like; His priority is what our heart is focused on.  That must be our goal—our end. We must walk daily towards the truth that He really is coming back.

I sit here in this prayer room and I am hit with the terrifying truth that I now live in Missouri. For the past week I have had random freak out moments that cause me to pause and shout, what the heck have I just done! They have come when I am waiting for the officer to write me my speeding ticket, when I’ve burnt rice twice and once again have to settle with toast (that also burns), when I use a 50 cent fork to cook entire dinners. It is those moments when my closest friends leave and I am left alone in a house that is 85 degrees and infested with demon-possessed crickets that defy the death trap of a lawn mower where I wonder how I landed here. Why I ever chose to leave the sweet bliss of my hometown. But it is also in this prayer room that I find my answer. As we sing, "for from you are all things and to you are all things” I am reminded why I came. I am living to prepare for a wedding that will be my gateway into eternity. These sweet moments in a prayer room I’ve spent so much time in causes my heart to yearn for more of Him. Nothing else matters when we are exposed to the love He has for us to be with Him where He is.

My friend is right. Her heart is focused on our upward calling as the inheritance of Jesus. In the midst of trial and tribulation she turns to Her father, to the One she moved here for. She is an intercessor fighting to know who our God is. She defies the world’s lies of comfort and instead gazes upon the beauty of a Man who is actually going to come to us. We don’t come here for easy living, but for a meaningful chase after Jesus. He is coming back. He wants to marry His bride. He wants to bring us perfect love. That truth makes everything else manageable.  When I’ve killed my 7^th spider for the evening and my prayer room walk home buddy is 4408 miles away and all that I’ve known in the last 6 months is gone,  I can find comfort in His unchangeable being. I can look back at His face and know He has not left. I continually return to the basics, the milk and honey, and answer the simple redundant question: why am I here? In a place that has no need for indoor steam rooms I have come for only one thing: to know the One who has stolen my heart and to prepare for a wedding feast that is promised to occur. He is my reason. His 2^nd coming is why I endure the taste of burnt toast. He has stolen my heart. Against all opposition, all laziness, any movement that occurs around me, I will run to my Bridegroom because one day there will be a wedding and I want to be dressed accordingly. 

He Stares and Time Stands Still

I read in John 8 about the Woman caught in adultery and this is what I imagine:

The Uncreated God locks eyes with the eyes of a young Jewish girl standing alone. He knows her; He remembers when she was created, every crumb of her being thought out. The curve of her body, the shape of her lips, the sound of her beating heart sewn together to create a uniqueness that will never again be cloned. What was it like in that moment to stare back at the eyes of the One keeping the stars in the sky and sustaining her breath right now? The Maker stares at His perfectly designed masterpiece and can recall her as a small child; remembers the time when He took His hands and painted the color in her eyes. The Incarnate, dwelling outside the colorful canvas of the universe, places Himself right in the center of all the flesh, bone, blood that makes up humanity and stares at His beloved, His soon to be bride. "She turns away, she denies my truth and yet I still love her," He patiently waits.

This woman caught in the ultimate shameful act, stripped of all privacy and dragged through the streets of those who mock her, now stands bare, undone, vulnerable in front of her only reason for living. He stares and she stares back and time stands still. "Has no one condemned you?" Her King asks. Time still frozen. She whispers back to her Maker, "No one Lord." And then that moment comes that we are all waiting for; the one that we live for. When our King looks into our soul and judges with a judgment only found under the mercy umbrella held by the Uncreated One. He says, "neither do I condemn you, go; and from now on sin no more." I can only imagine what that statement did to the inside of her; what she must have felt like in that moment. Those words have the power to make her fully alive. That gaze has the intensity to shake her inner core as the truth is unveiled that the One who made her does not see what the world sees. Though the world drowns Her heart with darkness, His breath washes clean every crevice of her soul.

I feel like this young girl. Darkened from the world, but lovely to Him. He peers through me and knows me better than I know myself; not because I always let Him in on my life, but it is because of His working hands that I can ever be one to be known. Twenty years ago for me and outside of time for Him I became a thought amongst the communion of the Godhead. As the three-in-one dwelled together and within each other a moment came where I was desired; a blank canvas was laid down and my Father drew up my existence and then named me. I was not a random object placed here by mistake; my life was perfectly planned. He carefully chose every trait and feature that would mold together to make up my form. I started as an idea, an intricate plan, and was made alive by just one simple blow of His breath. He is my Master and I His puppet; with my strings attached to the Heavens, He, without mistake, controls my every movement. In, out; inhale, exhale—I breathe because He lets it be. His gaze into my heart is no change into what He has always been doing and will do. Even when I didn't want Him He was always speaking and I closed my ears. I turned my eyes from my Designer, from my Papa, and sold myself to the world's opinion of satisfaction, but He stayed near. "I love you," He screamed as I scratched hopelessness into the hips He handmade. I found comfort in the arms of others, yet His arms stayed open, empty—waiting for me. My thoughts dwelled in the bondage of fantasy of what I could be, while my pathway He calls good laid open waiting for the trail of my footprints. So with this passion, with His all-knowing love He bruised my heart with His gaze that never leaves. I will take your pain His compassion shouts. I take your sins His scars prove.

So here I am again—bare, stripped, waiting for His love to fall afresh over me once more. As the young Jewish girl I stand in front of my Maker tainted by the deception of this fallen world waiting to hear what He calls me. He sees into my inner core and calls me pure.

"I love you lord," I whisper under my breath and in Heaven He moves. "I put my trust in You," I say (half believing).

"Okay here I am for you to trust" my Maker responds.

I stare back at my Father, my Redeemer, my Husband and give myself over. In this moment my strings are pulled and I stand upright walking with His strength--alive with His light. I can feel my blood flow and my heart burn and I know that His hand is touching my frail, weak body--I fall in love. In this moment I find my resting place just as the young Jewish girl experienced 2000 years ago. I am safe. I close my eyes and see Him gaze as He sings over me and within me. As a Father He embraces me, as a husband He calls me beautiful, as a Maker He restores me to my original being. And as I stand motionless listening to His melody I wish that time didn't have to start up again.

A White Wall Always White

I used to have a white wall. It was beautiful and bare and without blemish. Put it in a museum or at an open house and it would speak of freedom and safety, freshness and purity. There was an innocence to it for the wall had never before left its created whiteness. And within it anything was possible. The imagination would soar with what it could look like and become, dreams that could one day be reality. But what happens when this white wall isn't white anymore? When it becomes stained with color and every white spot disappears? When it becomes wet with red and dark red colors that drip down from top to bottom soon causing all the white to disappear.  My wall is no longer new and pure, it has been exposed to the outside world--touched by color. People come and carelessly paint over my blemish free wall. They expose it to greens and blacks and different shades of gray. They don't see its beauty. They don't see thats how my wall was made, thats the color it was meant to be. They only see emptiness waiting to be exposed to the destructive color wheel.  They don't enjoy it's presence. "That's how I was created," the white wall shouts. But no one hears and the screaming voice becomes quieter as it is slowly covered by the darkness that it now lays beneath.

Soon my wall has every color causing it to have no one color. Each pigment blends together, eyes look upon it, but no one can give it a name. It's identity lost among the array of colors layered atop each other. Though over time the paint fades and loses its brightness the wall does not go back to white. Where will my wall find its whiteness?

When I thought there would be no resting place, no place to call home for my once white wall there appeared eyes that looked with a gaze of complete adoration. They are altogether different than the eyes that failed to give my wall a label.  These eyes stare with a fiery passion and loving intensity as if they've seen my white wall before it was tainted with the hands of humanity. The sun finds its resting place under the earth and then meets the sky once more and the hands on the clock twirl round and round yet the One staring at my wall never leaves. "I see" a Voice says, "I see the white. I see its roots, I know it's origins. White is the foundation, the first layer, I see it."

Where do the colors go in these gazing eyes? Why can they see beyond the ruined surface? How can they see into the darkness of each layer? All other eyes stare and do not see, but these, glistening with flames, look and know the truth of my wall. The voice says once more, "I see because I created it. I am the Maker, the Designer, the Artist of this white wall. This wall I painted with My own hands. No color can taint it; it is perfect, without blemish. An open canvas to imagination, to creativity--to the purpose it was created for. Oh how I love My white wall," the Voice proclaims "Though the world touches it and only sees the blended darkness, I see beauty and purity. I see originality and uniqueness. I see my beloved adorned with the innocence I first painted. This wall is my masterpiece and I will forever call it white."