I want to open my heart to you for a moment. Can you stay a while? Really, for me, this is a matter of copy & paste. Sharing something I shared once months ago with a close friend. A vision, if you will. My heart on my sleeve. An unedited email straight out of a note from my phone. Inspired from the mouth of my Beloved, who beckons me into the deeper forest green.
This email has been playing through my mind like a broken record. So I'll share again, in hopes that if not clarifying something in the weight of my own heart, it'll weigh on yours, as well.
August 6, 2013 at 9:52 AM.
Sarah,
Remember when I told you that I tend to hear God the loudest in the car & before dozing off? Meet 1 am.
{Read this with caution, because I wrote as it came to me with no intention to be grammatically correct or have a sense of flow. This email is a copy of the note I saved to my phone last night. Which means it'll be a bit messy.}
History, History. Her past, his story. A campaign for beautiful wreckage. Beautiful ashes.
Ashes + History + beauty, wholeness, oneness.
History (his story, history) develops through the filters of heartbreak, struggles, joys, & grace. It's not always pretty face weather & it's not always the golden years. Sometimes it's the most painful battle wounds. Those struggles that aren't seasonal or temporary. The hurts that leave us on our knees. History develops through rainy days & star-filled/sleepless nights. The highs & the lows. The bitter & the sweet.
Don't tuck away your battle scars, don't whisper your battle cry.
There's power in your story, in your story lies history, full of redemption, grace, acceptance, & love. Raising your voice could make history. Lets be one. Lets be whole. Lets wear our stories like flowers in our hair, like crowns of hope & glory & healing that they are.
& the rest is history.
{end note}
So I don't know what you were thinking & what God is speaking to you. But this was my 1 am spark.
I love you!
& it's no longer a spark. it's a freaking forest fire.
My mind has caught wind of what God is preparing my heart for & I am running like a wild stallion. Adrenaline pumps through these bones, filling me with joy & anticipation. Because I am ready for life & the church is drenched in gasoline, awaiting the slightest flicker of light to set the whole place aflame. So lets do this. Together.
Yeah, I am not good at together, I have not mastered united. I sit in the second to last row of the balcony alone. Me & Holy Spirit, Holy Spirit & me. I see the church body gathered on the floor, but the gathering is temporary, breaking away & dispersing into the depths of the night with the echo of the last strum. We are united in the way we sit next to people. Or we talk about good church things. Or Starbucks.
But to whom are you intimate with? Who would you look at as family. We're talking more than a chummy little title.
Who would you be fearless in front of & vulnerable? Because the church may not be perfected, but we are family. & love if you love someone deeply vulnerability grows deeper roots.
Maybe your thinking the only one you are obligated to be vulnerable with is Jesus & your [future] spouse. My answer? I have a few.
1. What a lonely place.
2. What a fear-driven place.
3. Love is a risk.
Vulnerability breeds depth. Depth breeds intimacy. Without depth we are a ununited. Am I right?
Without depth we are a load of walls standing around in a building without people.
We are shattered. Stained. Imperfect. Flawed. & we are often so afraid to let people see our past & troubles & the ugly things those redemption-filled, nail-scarred hands have touched. We try to do good & be good & look good, so that no one can read into our history.
The trouble with that is that our story carries His story. & though our story is quite mangled, history (His story, history) is worth while. His story through ours is what declared us healed & whole & righteous. He made us new.
I have been criticized for putting my life & struggles out there. I have been asked why I would go so far & be so blunt. Why I would trust the internet & people I don't know & people that never promised they wouldn't hurt my heart with my heart. But this, my love, is the answer.
Because I believe God has made me pure in his sight. He has washed me white as a snow covered earth. His story is so enthralling to me. To know first hand the power he has had over my heart & the restoration he has brought to my damaged mind is irresistible & an utter delight. I want to whisper into the empty rooms of your heart that you, my sweet girl, are not alone. I want you to feel connected through the brokenness. I want to instill in you the same fearlessness that God has instilled in me. I want to help you shake those chains, & embrace your freedom. & then I want you to be infected with a love that repeats.
Will you share your story?
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