Vulnerability.

All it takes is one touch, one glimpse, one moment with You, and all the cares of this world fade away. One breath fills my being with life, and the dull, grey colors around me turn to beauty in all its magnificence. I strive and fight only to find there’s nothing I can ever do to change situations or myself, and as I lift my eyes only to behold the tiniest glimpse of your face.. you do it. You calm my raging storms, and you still my storming ocean. You breathe life into my lungs, and you bring color and beauty to my life.

Now, why am I writing all of this? I could’ve written this many months or even years ago, but it would’ve most likely been nothing more than head knowledge. Today, however, it all became real. Throughout the week my emotions were all over the place as You exposed unbelief and insecurities in my heart. I felt more vulnerable than words can possibly express, and in the midst of the vulnerability I felt exposed and unlovable. I know that You love me at my best, but what about the moments I “fail”, when my weaknesses take over and the “pretty facade” is taken away? What about the wounds and the pain, and the areas I strive to hide? Can You still love me and desire me in the midst of all of this? In my head I knew You did – nothing can separate me from Your love, but if I’m being completely honest with myself I believed the opposite. I believed that no one, not even the Almighty God, could love me in my real self. I thought it would repulse You and push You away. And as all of these lies were spinning around in my head, like a never ending storm and carrying me away, You came. This morning I woke up with a cry of desperation in my heart.. and You heard me. You moved at the sound of my voice, and this overwhelming, raging storm stopped at the sound of Yours. You met me in the midst of my pain, and You spoke words filled with beauty and gentleness. You brought life to my dry bones as You silenced the lies, and that’s when I realized I’m safe. My brokenness doesn’t repulse You, my emotions don’t scare You, but they’re safe in Your hands. I am safe in Your hands. I am loved.

You are my strong Tower, my Refuge, my Help. You are Ever Present, You see me and You know me. You search my innermost being, and You love me. You delight in me, and You call me Your beloved. So that’s what I’ll do: I will BE LOVED.

Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.

Fear is crippling, and it has had its grip on my life for as long as I can remember. Fear of man, fear of failure, fear of changes, feeling unlovable.. The list goes on and on, and some days it seems to have no end. It paralyzes my heart and soul, and all I seem to manage is a quiet whisper of desperation: Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.

For freedom Christ set me free, to a life of abundance and joy indescribable, yet I seem to find myself falling back into fear: Dressing myself in the robes of a slave, leaving behind a robe adorned with royalty and belonging. It makes absolutely no sense to give it up, no sense at all. Yet it does. Why? Because I allowed it. I allowed the enemy’s lies to take root in my heart, and the more they grew, the further away from God’s truth I got. And the most ridiculous part is that I didn’t even realize it myself.

I’ve known God since I was a little girl, even been a missionary for the past four and a half years, and if anyone should be able to walk out the truth of what Jesus did on the cross it should be me. At least that’s what I kept telling myself, not realizing pride was slowly but surely creeping into my heart, and we all know that pride leads to fall. And this time I fell hard: Into a pit of self-righteousness and fear. Blinded by pride and crippled by fear.. it must have been quite the sight. And to make it even worse, to put the cherry on top of the cake, I blamed God. Offense had built up in my heart, and I was angry. Why had He lead me to this place only to leave me alone and suffering? Why had He forsaken me?

Recently, through His immeasurable grace, He took the blindfolds off my eyes, and I could see clearly for the first time in a very long time: He had been there all along. He never left my side, and He never stopped loving me. Indeed, He never once wavered. He was and is so much more than faithful, and despite my attempt of pushing Him away His steadfast love surrounded me. Not even my offense and anger could push Him away. So we sat down and talked. For the first time in a long time I opened up my heart, being completely vulnerable, and lies and chains of bondage were exposed. I cried at the pain of vulnerability and at the sight of the mess and brokenness of my heart, dearly desiring to be healed and whole, but instead finding myself disgusted by what I saw. I couldn’t even look at His face, too ashamed to see the disappointment in His eyes, and I desperately tried to gather and fix the broken pieces of my heart. It was then I felt His gentle hand under my chin, lifting my head to meet His gaze. There was no condemnation or disappointment, but pure, undeserved love. His strong arms embraced me, and I wept like a little child. I cried until the poison of fear and lies had left my body, and His perfect love wrapped itself around me. I am not a failure and I am not unlovable, but I am unconditionally loved and desired. I am no longer a slave to fear. Not because of what I can do or because I decided to lay down my life to become a missionary: There is nothing I can ever do to deserve this love. Nothing. It is fully and freely given.

I am amazed at how deceptive my heart is, and how quickly I lose sight of Him whom my soul loves, and how quick the enemy is to put salt in my wounds. And in the midst of it all, I somehow think I am able to do it in my own strength. Truth is; I can’t. I was never made to walk this journey alone. I need Him. I desperately need Him to fill my lungs with His breath, hear His voice singing over me with love, and I need Him in every little step I take. I was never made to walk by myself, but I was created to walk with Him and in complete dependance on Him. And that is why my soul’s constantly crying out; lead me to the Rock that is higher than I.

Grace.

Something new is stirring within my soul; a revelation, a freedom almost too grand to grasp. Its breadth and length, its height and depth far exceed my comprehension. In the glimpse of a moment I behold it only to find myself on my knees, face down, as it slips out between my fingers like a handful of sand. What you’re showing me contains a freedom that surpasses the capacity of my brain, and as I try wrapping my logic around it, it is gone.

I tasted it, and it was sweeter than honey on my lips. A richness, a fullness, a sweetness beyond written words.. a revelation brought forth from ages of old. A mystery for many, but to us revealed. I cannot say I understand it, but this I know; a simple taste will not satisfy. I was made for this: To jump off the cliff and dive into this endless ocean of grace ’till body, soul and spirit are fully submerged and permeated.

I’ve heard it many times, more than I can possibly remember, even built a life upon it without comprehending nor questioning its significance. I was blind, but now I see. I was dead, but now I’m alive. An awakening in my soul has taken place, and I can’t fathom I haven’t seen it before.

Like a bird taken out of its cage, having its freedom restored, you’ve set me free. The chains of religion and performance are falling off as I behold your face, your glorious grace. You came to save this wretched soul of mine; wash me whiter than snow to secure an eternity together. It is wonderful greater than my understanding, and I fall to my face in the splendor of the cross. But it doesn’t stop there. Like the dawning of the sun banishes the darkness, you light up a whole new world and I realize I can’t put your grace, put you, in a box, but I must allow its fullness to saturate my soul. And it is then I recognize the wings on my back. Forgotten, but created to be spread wide and fly high: To soar upon your glorious grace.

Reading these verses, my heart skips a beat as I behold its beauty, and the capacity of my brain is stretched: In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of His grace, which He lavished upon us. Through your blood I’ve been redeemed, forgiven all my sin, and in you I’ve been made holy and blameless. In you I have the fullness of joy, and through you I can come before the throne in confidence. In you there is no striving, because grace was freely given. I did not receive the spirit of fear to fall back into slavery, but I’ve been made a daughter and my heart can’t seem to stop crying “Abba!”.. As these words wash over my mind, I take a step back and breathe in deeply. Its depth and significance, its freedom, is too great to be taken lightly. As they penetrate my heart, a soothing and painful sweetness, I hear chains of bondage falling off. Your cross saved me from death, but it brought so much more than that. O how foolish I’ve been to leave it there, to think no more of it, when it is your grace alone that sustains me. It guides me, upholds me, cheers me on and pursues my heart unlike any other. It is eternal life, but freedom for my every day. “Good” doesn’t cover half of its significance, but it is a good beginning.

It is not to be misused or abused, stretched to test its capacity, but it is my lifeline, covered in holy reverence. It is your goodness over my life. It is freedom in its fullness, and it is intimacy beyond my comprehension.

I was never made to solely walk this earth, but I was made to fly.. to soar in between heaven and earth, and dive into your deep, deep ocean of grace. The cross was never meant to solely represent my salvation from death to life, but to be the very foundation that I build my life upon. Your grace was never meant to solely cover up my sins, but to saturate every pore, every cell of my body, until your glory covers the earth. It is by your grace and your grace alone that I live, that I worship and it is by your grace that I can write these words: I’ve seen only but a mere glimpse of your freedom and grace. I will run after it with all that I am and all that I have, fully aware that it is not by works, but faith fulfilled in your grace that I am saved.

Born to fly

She was born with wings

to fly up high,

to catch the winds

and fly, fly, fly.


Made from the dust

but destined to soar,

Born to the earth

but designed for more.


Eyes like an eagle

and feet like a deer,

to run and to soar

above bondage and fear.


Made for the heights

and made for the ground,

covered in grace,

a love so profound.


She was born to soar

with wind on her face,

flying, but fully immersed

in His merciful grace.

 

In the eye of the storm.

In the eye of the storm

I’ve found my place,

Surrounded by war

but emerged in His grace.


Looking around

at all the delusion,

I cling to my Rock

the Only solution.


People are falling

to the left and the right,

But I will finish this race

with Him in my sight.


I have decided:

I will not follow the crowd,

But live to shout His glory

clear and loud.


Despite their words

their empty deceit

Nothing else satisfies

but to sit at His feet.


The darkness is covering

and will cover the world,

but together we dance

together we swirl.


Fighting my selfish desires

as I look to the cross,

Where all else fade

and is counted as loss.


In the midst of the darkness

I find rest for my soul,

In Him who is love,

In Him who is whole.


I will wage war against

the Enemy and his plan,

Armed with Christ

and hand in hand.


I will walk by faith

and not by sight

As I take back lost ground

in this violent fight.


There is no greater thing

in all the earth

than loving Him

for all that He´s worth.


To dwell in His presence

the rest of my days

its all I want:

To walk in His ways.

The Hero of the story.

Lately I’ve been meditating on the story of Peter walking on water. Although, this time with a slightly different approach than usual. In the past I’ve had a tendency to focus on Peter and his courage to walk on water when the rest of the disciples were paralyzed by fear. His desire for Jesus and his ever-so-human default of doubting as he looked at his circumstances instead of looking at Jesus. Of course, I’ve always known that Jesus is the One who saved him: The One who called him out on the stormy sea and the One who stretched out His arm to save him from drowning. It is one incredible story and I just simply love it.

However, instead of looking at Jesus as the hero of the story, I recognize how I tend to give Peter all the credit. Recently I’ve realized how wrong that is. By all means, Peter was both brave and foolish at the very same time, and every believer should follow his example of stepping out of the boat in a wholehearted pursuit of the most beautiful One. I am both grateful and filled with respect for Peter, and in many ways I can relate to him in both his passions and doubts. His life has taught me important truths in my walk with God, but he is not the hero of the story. Peter was a part of the story, a very important one, but it was never about him. It was and it is all about Jesus. He was the One who came walking on the water, He was the One who told Peter to step out onto the water and most importantly He was the One to stretch out His arm to save Peter. I recognize how I usually give Peter too much credit as I read the story, because it was plainly never about him. It’s a story about Jesus and of His marvelous, incomprehensible grace.

Just like Jesus told Peter to step out of the boat to walk on the water with Him, He asks the very same of us. Yes, there are different seasons; some to rest, some to stand firm and some to walk on the waters.. and when God brings me into a season of walking on water I tend to react just like Peter. I will never say “no”, because the reward of saying yes to God is greater than the regret of saying no, but the moment I take my eyes off of the One who holds me and look around, I sink.. and I sink quickly. I look to myself and my circumstances and just like that I am about to drown. That’s when I usually realize what’s happening and I cry out for help. And this is the part of Peter’s story, a story that has become mine as well, that absolutely blows my mind: Jesus doesn’t hesitate to come to the rescue, but He immediately reached out His hand and took a hold of Peter; of me. You see, that’s why it was never about Peter, or as much as I like to think my life is about myself, it was and it is always about Jesus. After being in missions for almost four years I am just realizing it is not about me, but that it is all about Him. I am not the hero of the story, I am just like Peter: A very important part of it. I get to experience the joys and challenges that comes with walking in obedience and walking on waters. But, at the end of the day it is all about Him: His immediate response to my cries for help and his wonderful, unsearchable grace that carries me. Because He was the One who found me, the One who called me out upon the waters and He is the One and only who can sustain me. He is the hero of my story.

A porcelain doll with a wild, wild dance.

Rosy cheeks

and deep green eyes;

a porcelain doll

with the highest of price.


A piece of perfection

at very first glance:

Made by the Artist

and made for wild dance.


Her beauty was flawless

yet misunderstood;

“just” one more doll

for collectable goods.


She was put in a box,

but she did not fit:

A heart for the wild

and a passion fully lit.


She started to dance

to the song in her heart;

it was then she discovered

she was chosen and set apart.


She was not made

to follow the crowd,

but to dance for His glory:

Be wild and be loud.


Made with perfection

in the Potter’s heart

to shine in the darkness

and live set apart.


.. no wonder she did not

fit with the rest,

when her beauty was made

to bless and be blessed.