Broken Things

"And without faith living within us it would be impossible to please God. For we come to God in faith knowing that he is real and that he rewards the faith of those who give all their passion and strength into seeking him." Hebrew 11:6

He Cares for you.

He knows you.

He loves you.

He is waiting for you. And He will never stop waiting. I was reminded of how recklessly my Father loves me today. I was listening to the Bethel Church Podcast (which I highly recommend, btw). The pastor spoke about Luke Chapter 15. If you are familiar with Bible stories, you've probably heard these before. But if you're not familiar, I highly recommend looking them up. I have been in a transitioning phase of my spiritual walk. You could say I am losing my religion. And I don't mean that in a bad way. For a long time the rules of religion bonded my spirit. But not anymore. I am growing and developing the most intimate relationship with my Heavenly Father. The Dad who loved me first. And I cannot tell you, how incredible it is to be loved by Him and to share in this tender and close relationship. But it wasn't always like this.

There were times in my life where I felt like the "prodigal son." I strayed from everything I knew to be right and true. I was hungry for love and devotion. And went searching for it in all the wrong places. And then I found myself so ashamed of my mistakes. But my Father was always waiting for me. Expectantly. Loving me the entire time. Even as I moved further and further away from Him. He was there. He is the One who will leave the 99 to rescue the 1. 

With exuberant joy he raised it (the lost lamb) and placed it on his shoulders, carrying it back with cheerful delight! Returning home, he called all his friends and neighbors together and said. 'Let's have a party! Come and celebrate with me the return of my lost lamb. Luke 15: 4-6

I have always been different. Not the pretty one. Not quite the smart one. And definitely not the most popular one. I had a lot of friends. But not many close relationships. I kept things to myself. And I didn't dare share them. Even in a crowded room, I felt like an outsider. As a kid, I wanted to be anything but an outsider. You guys remember what middle school was like? Yeah, me neither because I blocked it out. It was THAT bad. I have one very vivid memory of being in a conflict with some other girls in my class. And then I have a sweet memory of me and my cheerleading sponsor locking ourselves out of the school van and having to walk across town in the dark to her house. She was not my favorite teacher. I actually had a a lot of conflict with her. But that night I got a glimpse of something in her. And I didn't know exactly what it was, until years later.

In 2007, right before Greg got back from Iraq I was in charge of finding us a place to live. Not the norm probably for most 19 year olds. I really didn't want to live in the town we grew up in. I definitely wanted to escape and never look back. This place was a reminder of a whole lotta hurt. And looks of pity, sadness, and shame from others were hard pills to swallow on the daily. But my sweet hubby was so homesick after being in a foreign country at war. So I conceded and the search began. There were not a lot of houses open for rent in our small town. But somehow we ended up renting from my middle school english teacher and her husband. She asked me what our nursery colors were. Guys, I am tearing up just remember all of this. Levi was 6 months old at the time. He was born while Greg was in Iraq. And he didn't even have a nursery because he and I were sharing a room at my mom's house. But I had purchased this picture that I was hoping to hang in his room, someday. So I gave it to her. She took that little picture and painted a nursery for me to match. And not only did she do that, she made the most beautiful curtain for his room. I was so taken a back. She didn't have to do that. Once we got moved in she would swing by and drop off homemade treats. My favorite was her homemade ice cream. She hung a swing outside for her granddaughter and insisted that we use it for Levi too. The kindness she showed me and my family during one of THE.MOST.PAINFUL times of my life has left a mark on my heart. The smallest things. But here I sit remembering them and trying not to ugly cry at the coffee shop. She passed away unexpectedly shortly after all of this. And I never got to tell her truly how grateful I was for her simple acts of kindness. It's the little things, guys. The smallest act that can make all the difference.

Later, on in my adulthood I would realize how much of a blessing being an outsider really is. I was set apart for a reason. Because I have been anointed and appointed for a divine purpose. Ya know, a "such a time as this" purpose. And here's the thing, so have you. Even writing this blog I needed an extra shot of bravery and before I could even ask my Father for it, he served it up to me on a silver platter via the Voxer App. Last night a dear, friend and spiritual mentor reached out to me. OUT.OF.THE.BLUE to encourage me in my writing. To speak LIFE over me. Friends, if you do not have a friend/mentor/teacher/sister who speaks truth and life over you, you need a new tribe. We serve a mighty, living God. And he has consistently used others to encourage me and lift me up.

He uses any and all measures necessary to chase you down. You are the 1. And He will do whatever it takes to show you. So whether that is through the simplest act of kindness from an unexpected friend or a dang walkie talkie app, He will make you feel His love.

He cares for you.

He knows you.

He loves you. 

Thank you, Lord for the miracles of my life. I pray to notice even the smallest ones. I pray to see your fingerprints everywhere.

This is a prayer I wrote in my journal over a year ago. And today, I was reminded of it. His fingerprints are everywhere, friends. And if you think He can't use you, my dear. You are kidding yourself. He will take every broken piece of you and your story and weave it into the most magnificent masterpiece you have ever laid your eyes on. And you'll think to yourself-- How is this even possible?

"It’s the rebels and the prodigals; it’s the humble and the weak

All the misfit heroes You chose

But if it’s true You use broken things

Then here I am Lord, I'm all Yours"

--Matthew West, Broken Things