Grace Center: a house to call home

I recently found a church I've decided to call home.

A house in which His presence dwells. Because the people that fill it welcome Him.

A community that comes together to joyfully, honestly, and passionately meet with God.

A people that worship like I've never seen before. Pouring out their hearts to the Lord. Guided by the Spirit. Creating a place of safety for Him to dwell. A place God feels comfortable leading His people. Confident they will be sheltered, cared for, known, and loved.

A church that still believes in the healing power of Jesus. So fervently that healing, transformative healing continually takes place. Because they believe with complete faith that God's miracles still occur today. And that God empowers us with spiritual gifts to bring heaven down to earth.

A house of God. A home for His people. A family, who comes together to worship and praise their God. Without structure. But rather by welcoming the Holy Spirit to dwell and faithfully letting Him lead.

There is power in this church. A powerful presence of God. A powerful use of His spiritual gifts. A powerful existence of the supernatural. A powerful way of worship. A powerful peace. A powerful sense of joy. A powerful consuming love. A powerful glimpse of heaven reaching earth.

In just a cuople of visits, this church has taught me how to welcome God's presence. Into my life, my home, and my heart. How to live in His joy. How to be still in His peace. How to be healed by faith. And how to worship as led by the Spirit, rather than by a structured agenda.

I already feel transformed.
I already feel renewed.
I already feel full of joy and peace. Completely drenched in His spirit.
I am more in tune with His voice and aware of His touch.
I am falling more and more in love with my God every day.
Learning to live in His truths.
And coming to know Him as He actually is, simply as I am.


My heart has found a new house to call home. And I could not be more thankful, joyful, and excited.

A welcoming prayer

No more walls.

No more fear.

You are welcome here.

Lord, You are welcome here. In this heart, I welcome you. Ask You to dwell in the deepest corners. I open all closed doors, and I ask Your spirit to flood in. I leave no corner closed to You. I give You full access. Total reign. Come into the parts I have been keeping from You, Lord. Sweep into those dark, empty places. I welcome You, Holy Spirit. Come dwell in my heart. Show me where I have been putting up walls. Revel the voids behind them. The wounds beneath them. Rush in. Take me there with You. Show me where I need Your healing. Heal me in those places, but show me how I became wounded and broken there. And teach me how to never go there again.

Come, Lord Jesus. You are welcome here. Here in this heart. In its deepest holes and darkest corners, I welcome you. You are welcome here.

No more walls.

No more fear.

You are welcome here.

(IN)securities

You are a beautiful daughter of The King.

Someone told me that a couple of weeks ago in a text message. I was having a rough morning. One of those beyond emotional days. When it seems like every small insecurity embedded in your heart from past wounds resurfaces. Only to get together with all the other insecurities and throw themselves a huge pity party. All the product of fear and doubt. But nonetheless, I felt weak.

You know how those insecurities feed you mouths full of blatant lies? You aren't strong enough. You aren't good enough. You aren't worthy of love. You can't do this. You will fail. You can't change. He doesn't love you. He's going to leave you. He will be disappointed in you.

But mostly, I kept hearing them say...you aren't strong enough. You aren't good enough. You aren't worthy of love.

Insecurities.

They aren't of us. And they certainly aren't of God. Because what or who could we ever be more secure in than God? If He is our rock, our shield, our protector, and our redeemer...well, that sounds pretty darn secure if you ask me.

God is secure. Not in the sense of being safe. If you've walked with God for even a short time, you probably know by now that He's not about safety. He doesn't wrap you in bubble wrap or keep you locked in a comfortable, easy place. He's not about keeping you from situations that grow and challenge you. He wants you to get your hands dirty. To rub up against some tough, scary crap through which He can build and prune you into who He created you to be. No, God is secure in that we can have complete assurance in Him. We know who He is and who He's not. What He's for and what He's against. We know that He will always be there and always love us. That He will never abandon or give up on us. What could be more secure than that?

So these things we call "insecurities" cannot possibly be of Him. They're outside of who and how He created us to be. They're unwanted excess that we absorb from the world around us. Like a dirty film that sticks to and covers our flesh, tainting the way we see ourselves. They are of this earth. Not of God. And these insecurities, if not of Him who is Truth...must be lies. If not of Him who is goodness...must be evil. If not of Him who is a solid rock...must be insecure. Unreliable. Shaky.

While we cannot be shaken on this trembling earth when we stand firm in Jesus...we begin to shake uncontrollably the second we start to buy into these insecurities.

So why do we hold onto these earthly lies that shake us when we could stand firm in Truth?

We all have our own insecurities. They stem from whatever deep wounds linger beneath the surface. But they all have two things in common: They are not of God, and they are preventing us from becoming the child of God he created us to be.

You are a beautiful daughter of The King.

This one sentence...this one statement...if I truly believed it, would wipe away every single insecurity I experience.

Because my wounds linger in the area of worth. And for so long I searched and searched for external validation through romantic relationships and striving for achievement to heal those wounds. But it only fueled those insecurities more. Time and time again. It let them latch onto my skin just a little bit tighter. Dig their nails in just a little bit deeper. Bend me toward believing in those insecurities just a little bit more.

But I...I am a beautiful daughter of The King.

That makes me perfect in His eyes.

That makes me priceless.

That makes me pure.

That makes me valuable.

That makes me more than good enough.

That makes me royalty.

That makes me worthy of love.

I want to walk boldly and confidently in that. To write it on my heart. To see it in my face when I look in the mirror. To feel it everywhere His presence lingers.

Only then will my insecurities melt away. Only then will I no longer be shaken, but instead stand firm in this Truth: I am a beautiful daughter of The King. It's time to believe in that and live accordingly to overcome my insecurities.

So...who does God say you are? And what insecurities would disappear if you simply accepted and believed in that Truth?

Quit Striving and Surrender

Are you tired? Worn out? Unsatisfied with who you are? Constantly criticizing yourself?

Chances are you're striving.

For what? I don't know. Maybe good grades in school. A high paying job. A promotion at work. For a compliment from that one person whose opinion really matters to you. Fame. Finally "making it" in whatever profession it is you're pursuing. Financial stability. A relationship. Marriage. Approval from your parents. Finishing that impossible to do list.

Chances are, if you're anything like me, in whatever area of life it is...you're striving for perfection.

It happens. Here on this earth, the pressure is always on. The stakes high. The expectations higher.

We look at others who have done it, whatever it is, and wonder, why can't I? They do more than me and make it look so easy. What's wrong with me that I can't accomplish this? Why, no matter what I do or how hard I try, is it never enough?

We do and we do and we do. Mind convinced that more is always better, and until we get that more, we'll never be good enough. We strive for perfection. An absolutely unreachable place and concept.

Perfection. Think about the word for just a second. If you are human, then you are obviously flawed. You don't need a theological explanation to be convinced of that. It's common sense. You are a creature of this earth. Where distractions are plenty. Temptations are immense. Obstacles huge. And freedom abundant. You are going to mess up. You're going to fall down. You will fail. By your own standards and the standards of others over and over again. It's the only way life can be on this thing we call earth. You are only human. We are merely human. We aren't programmed to live out perfection. We're programmed to think about and evaluate choices and experiences in hopes of improving our decisions and progressing throughout our life. We're programmed for growth, most definitely. But as humans...we are completely incapable of ever reaching that place we call perfection.

If you ask me, it sounds like a pretty boring place. Why would we want to be perfect? If we were flawless and identical, what could we learn from each other? How could we live out a life of growth?

But the problem isn't that we can't be perfect. It's that knowing perfection is impossible, we constantly strive for it.

If you're thinking, naw, I don't strive to be perfect... I challenge you to evaluate every area of your life. There is a place where you strive for perfection. I promise.

To be the perfect child to your parents. The perfect parent to your kids. The perfect spouse, girlfriend, or boyfriend. The perfect friend. The perfect employee, intern, or volunteer. The perfect leader, role model, or example. The perfect....fill in the blank. But search your life, because it's there somewhere. That place where you strive to be more than you could ever be capable of actually being.

So what's the answer to all this striving?

Surrender.

One word. One concept. That will change every aspect of your life if you let it.

Am I trying to say that I am some expert holding the key to the secret of life? No. Absolutely not. But I do know without a doubt that surrender works. And not just for Christians who believe in surrendering to their savior. For everyone. No matter what they believe in or what they're striving for.

The concept may sound super religious. There's lots of worship songs that focus in on that word. Many sermons dedicated to the concept. Tons of scripture to back it up. Do I come from a perspective of surrender that believes in surrendering to something bigger, stronger, and far more perfect than myself? Yes. That's what makes sense to me. That's where I've learned I can find peace. In surrendering to a God that brings me strength when and where I am weak. Rest when I'm weary. Hope when I'm discouraged. And so much more.

But surrender works for everyone. Whether you believe in God, Jesus, Buddha, Allah, or nothing at all.

Why?

Because the heart of surrender is admitting and coming to peace with the fact that there are things out of your control. Things you are not capable of doing or being.

Surrender is saying, this is where I am, and this is where I cannot be. Who I am and who I cannot be. What I'm doing and what I cannot do.

Surrender is staring down your own weakness and boldly saying, I see you. You exist in me, and that is okay. I am not perfect, but I am also not a failure. We all have weaknesses, and you just happen to be mine.

Surrender is accepting the areas of your life over which you have no control.

Surrender is handing in your insecurities.

Surrender is discovering and trusting that you are enough. Exactly as you are and right where you are. Could there be room for improvement? Sure. But you are already good enough. Already worthy of love. Without doing or being anything more.

Surrender is understanding your humanity. Your existence as a flawed being in a flawed world.

Surrender is saying I can't do everything, and I can't be everything. But you know what? That is okay. That is how it should be.

And when you trade in your striving for surrender...you find freedom. To be who you are. To do what you are capable of doing. To be flawed. To fail. To fall.

To be human.

As for me? I choose to surrender to a God who can do all things. Who is always there and who readily meets me in my very imperfect, quite inadequate, merely human state. Because when I quit striving, and surrender to him, I find an indescribable peace and abundant love. And only then can I look at myself and say, I am good enough just as I am. I am doing enough right now. I am only human. I will never be perfect. And that's not just okay...it's more than enough.

But wherever it is you are striving for perfection...

And however it is you choose to surrender...

Quit striving. Surrender. And you will find freedom.

Running doesn't work with You

I haven't been coming to you lately. I haven't been letting you in. Leaning into you. Resting in you. Searching for you. I've been distant. Distracted. Unbalanced. Off center.

My eyes have not been fixed on you. But on who I need to be. Who I don't want to be. What I have to do. What I'm not ready to do.

My gaze has wandered. I've stepped off course.

You've been speaking, but I haven't been listening. Your arms have been open wide, but I haven't been running into them. You've been waiting for me. Offering your love, wisdom, rest and guidance. But I haven't been paying attention.

I've been neglecting this relationship. You and the work that you've been doing in my heart and my life. I quit being obedient. I put the work you were doing on the back burner. I ran away in fear. I was feeling weighed down by this stuff. By what you asked me to do. How you were working in my heart. The things you shared with me.

You were working. On something I wanted no part in. It was heavy. It was scary. And you were moving. Working. Proving your power and truth. Softening my heart to prepare me for something that lie ahead.

And because it was too heavy for me to carry...I ran. Like always. The runner in me said, "Actually, I've changed my mind. I'm not game for this. I can't do this." And bolted in the other direction.

Running is how I cope. I've blogged about this before. It's my escape. My defense mechanism. I get scared. I don't see myself as big enough or strong enough to deal with something. And I run. As far and as fast as I can. Until that heaviness is gone. And that big pile of shit I wasn't willing to face is just a tiny dot in the distance.

But I'm beginning to realize that I can't run from this without running from you.

Because this is what you're working on in my heart right now. This is where you want me to meet you right now. It's where your presence is lingering, because its where you are moving.

And so if I run from this...I run from you.

I know, because I just did it. And I've been dealing with the consequences for the past couple of weeks now. Feeling distant from you. Out of balance. Off center. Eyes fixed elsewhere. Not locked on you where they should be.

And I don't like it.

So I'm back to the drawing board. Running worked with people. With human relationships. Worked well enough at least. I mean, it obviously wasn't the best solution, but I made it work. I was able to deal with the consequences.

But I can't run from you. I can't stand the distance. I need to see your face. To feel your touch. And to hear your voice. And I can't right now, Jesus. Because I ran away from this. And in doing so...I ran away from you.

I had to try. I mean, do you blame me really? This shit is intense. And when the stakes get too high...I bail. That's my signature move. My go to play. Every time. I had to try it with you. It was only natural.

But you've made it very clear that this relationship isn't gonna work that way. I don't get to run away from you and still experience your intimacy. It doesn't work that way. I don't get that privalege. If I want you, I have to take you as you come. Doing big, scary, crazy things in my life and all.

So here's the deal, God. I need you. Big time. Every second of every day. After a few years in this relationship with you...that is the only thing I absolutely know without a doubt. I need you. I am utterly lost without you.

You see, I've experienced the sweetness of you in my life. After life with you, I know that nothing else will ever fill my voids. Quench my thirst for goodness. Feed my hunger for love. I've learned that that's only gonna be you. For the rest of my life.

So running is just not gonna be an option for me in this relationship. And I'm just gonna have to learn to deal with that. And in turn...I'm gonna have to learn to deal with this shit you're doing in my life. Along with the even bigger, scarier, heavier shit that comes after it. Cause it's gonna keep coming as long as you keep working. Which you will.

Because walking with you isn't easy. It isn't supposed to be. Because as our Father, you want to grow us and stretch us. Mold us and prune us. Into the men and women of God you designed us to be. If shit's hard, it's because you working in our hearts. Moving in our lives. If shit's easy, well, that means we've run away from you or we're not taking what you're trying to do in our lives very seriously.

Do I want to keep running away right now? Yup. With every ounce of my being. It's my instinct. My safety net. My defense mechanism. And I want to lean on it yet again in this situation.

But not at the cost of losing you. Of being distant, distracted, unbalanced, and off center. Not at the cost of moving my gaze elsewhere. I'd rather have my eyes locked on you. Because that's the only way I can battle the storm. That's the only thing that will turn a heavy burden into a light load.

I choose you. And I ask you to help me lock my eyes on you. Because if my eyes are truly locked on you, Jesus, I can't run in the other direction. To run away, I have to first move my gaze elsewhere.

So here's what I'm asking...

Help me keep my eyes locked with yours. So that instead of running away, I'll move toward you, grab your hand, and walk through whatever scary shit you're doing in my life. At a steady pace. One step at a time. Never lifting my gaze from your eyes.