{when you've been kicked out of the Garden}

Imagine Adam and Eve walking with God in the Garden. Enjoying the cool of the day, talking, communing, loving and being loved. A perfect intimacy. The Garden reality. Adam had been created for a purpose, appointed and anointed for his work in the garden.

I remember that feeling. Of knowing I was exactly who God created me to be. Hearing His voice. Enjoying His company. Walking with Him in the cool of the day. There was work, but the work was alongside Him and for Him and so that work seemed as rest to me. That work was where I found contentment and pleasure in loving Him and loving His people.

I remember

I remember that intimacy.

I remember encouraging others that just as Adam walked with God in the cool of the day, so can you! That the “Garden reality” is still available to us today… intimacy. Knowing. Loving and being loved. Walking bare before Him and NOT EVEN RECOGNIZING your nakedness.

Not even recognizing your nakedness. Your vulnerability. Your failures. Being so close to Him that you feel the covering of His perfect love. That you rest beautifully, perfectly, in the comfort of His presence.

I remember what that was like.

Walking with God in the cool of the day.

But then there is also THIS. This place that I’m in now. This place that is so difficult to articulate. This place of knowing what a good, loving, purpose-filled God He is… this place of remembering intimate moments worshiping Him in my living room- Misty Edwards blaring and hands waving and tears streaming and a heart EXPLODING with adoration… this place of remembering those things as though they were both yesterday and a lifetime away.

And I wonder

I wonder if this is how Adam and Eve felt when they were kicked out of the Garden? Did they look back at those times of intimacy? Did they have this eternal longing to be again in His presence? Did they understand what had been lost? Did they even know?

I have to believe they did. Because I do. As hard as I try to push back that remembrance of what once was, I cannot escape it. I cannot escape it and…

And I understand

I understand what it feels like to be alone. To feel like you can’t even hear His voice. To be so wrapped in darkness you aren’t really sure how to pursue the Light you once danced in so freely.

I understand.  I understand what it is like to be so vibrantly and painfully aware of your nakedness that your only instinct is to hide.  To hide from others, to hide from yourself, and when you hear His footsteps in the cool of the day… to hide from Him.

I understand. I understand what it is like go from the confidence of knowing you have been anointed and appointed for a work to being crippled by the fear of failure.

To be afraid to open the pages of your Bible because you are TERRIFIED of what that mirror is going to look like.

To avoid His people because the weight of their judgment, real or imagined, is too much to bear.

To leave a stack of cards from one of the most beautiful hearts you have encountered unopened because you simply cannot face the promise that you know lies within them. The encouragement. The Truth.

I understand

I wonder

I remember what I do not want to recall in my darkness. I recall a passage of Scripture, studied deeply, etched into my heart for such a time as this, a time when His Word lay dormant on my end table.

If I say, “Surely the darkness will hide me
    and the light become night around me,”
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
    the night will shine like the day,
    for darkness is as light to you. Psalm 139:11-12

And in that, a gentle whisper from the other side of that Garden gate… a voice into my darkness saying,

I still see you. 

{when God [finally] opens the door}

So we have a local hero around here named Nevin Ashley. He is one of North Knox’s own and has

spent ten years in the minor leagues. WHICH IN ITSELF IS A VERY BIG DEAL. Whether you know him personally or not, if you are a Knox County native, chances are you are talking about him this week. And if you do happen to know him personally, you are certainly talking about him tonight!

He’s a local favorite, a great guy, and even though we all cheered him on through his many moves in the minors… His heart has always been set on the big show.  Major League Baseball.

I’m sure to many, after three years… four years… eight years of waiting it had to seem like that dream would not be realized. According to the Brewer’s website, he had his own moments of doubt as well, nearly retiring in 2013. It gets weary, standing in the hallway just waiting for that door to open.

And then, this week… it DID. After a decade working his butt off in the minors, Nevin got the call he had dreamed about since he was a little boy playing summer league ball.  Eight hundred and seventy games in the minor leagues, ten years of practice, playing, injury, moving, and waiting… it all paid off as he took his first at bat stance in a Major League game.  And our family, along with countless other families in the NK area became instant Brewers fans.

And we all cheered like crazy when his first at bat yielded a double and an RBI.  We hung on every word the announcers had to say about his plays in the game (Jim is, as I type, re-listening to them all). They were rooting for him too, they recognized the magic of someone called up after a decade in the minors.  All because he didn’t give up. All because when he felt like giving up, he had a wife who encouraged him to keep playing the game that he loved. All because he made the absolute best out of the hallway.

As my Facebook feed fills up with congratulations, well wishes, and posts sharing his story into the Majors… I wonder if he is pinching himself? All that wait… and here he is, playing Major League ball. EIGHT HUNDRED AND SEVENTY GAMES, you guys.

All.That.WAIT.

Are any of you in a season of waiting? Feeling your way down an unfamiliar hall just waiting for the door to be opened for you?

I know about life in the hallway. I know what it’s like to have a call on your life, a destiny, a dream… and to wait and wait and wait for that door to open. I thought I was on the verge of the door being opened, six years ago.  But the Lord had different plans. He knew exactly what I needed, and He had to take me into a season of waiting to teach me things. So that I could learn from Him how to walk in humility and peace and love. So that he could train my spiritual muscles to respond quickly to His bidding and slowly to injury.  

Like Nevin there were times when I doubted the dream He had given me… and then an encourager would come along. A message out of the blue from someone who had little idea of the season I was in that would say “don’t give up, He’s still going to do this thing”. A Word spoken at just the right time. He sees you, and He’s using this season.

And like Nevin, this very night I am pinching myself. My life is overflowing with praise for all He has done. For the doors He has opened. When I look back on the last few years and the wait that felt like an eternity… I can see why. I can see the refining. The changing. The growing. The persevering through injury. Learning to trust in seasons of transition and moving. 

I am still a million miles from the "big league", but today as my friend Jeanie and I walked from the jail with smiles on our faces we both felt the same thing- encouraged. Tonight as the kids at Sprouts leaned in to hear how specially they were created by God- I was full of hope.  A few nights ago as a teen said “we can trust you”- my heart nearly burst. I may not be playing in the Majors, or have my name spoken on national TV, but tonight I feel like I'm exactly where He wants me to be. And it's amazing. 

What even is my life? How did I get so darn blessed? How did that long season of waiting turn into this??

I wonder if Nevin is feeling the same thing?

What even is my life? I had almost given up… now I am catching in a Major League Game. How did I get so blessed? How did 870 games in the minors turn into this??

Be encouraged, my friend. If you are playing your 698^th game in the minor leagues, be encouraged that the door is still there and it can still be opened. Be encouraged that this season of training is for the good. Be encouraged that He has a plan and a purpose, and that if God has planted a dream in your heart, He will bring you to it.

Tonight as we watched Nevin play against the Marlins… as we cheered him on with every play… I was reminded that dreams really do come true. It’s amazing to hear a corn fed Knox County boy’s name being called out by MLB announcers. It’s kind of a big deal.

I’m so not a big deal. But my God certainly is. And if He can put hands like mine to work for Him, what in the world could He do with you. Don’t shy away from a season in the hallway. Don’t give up when the door feels like it’s a million years away. Just keep doing what you can do where you are until He calls you up into your destiny.

And when you are sitting on your couch after a day overflowing with blessing (or in the locker room after your first game in the MLB), remember to thank Him. I can only imagine that Nevin has been… and I’m beyond certain that this girl is too.

Father, thank you for all the seasons of our life! Lord I PRAISE YOU for time spent in the hallway! Lord I praise you that even when doors are opened, it's not an END but a NEW BEGINNING! Father encourage those tonight who find themselves in a season of waiting. Encourage the ones who have grown weary in the wait... remind them tonight Lord that YOU are a God who is in charge, and who knows exactly what we need to walk in everything you have destined for us. Lord, we say tonight that we trust you... help us to praise you, wherever we are... even if it's in the hall! In Jesus Name...

{when Jesus weeps}

I remember the exact moment I heard the news. The hot tears pouring down my face and the

confused prayers to a God I couldn’t understand.

Sarah, Chad, Nathan, Christopher, little guys who fought cancer and won eternity, babies lost during pregnancy, a sweet faced little man who I had never even met. 

Mitch, my dad, Mary.  And now a man who fathered many, loved many, who lived a gentle life and praised the Lord for his many blessings.

Others taken what seemed like an eternity too soon. Friends who lost their anchor. Wives who had to plan the funeral of their loves instead of their retirement with them. Parents who had to walk through a valley no parent should ever have to walk through.

I remember falling at the feet of Jesus, as Mary and Martha had done after their brother died, and saying “Jesus, if only you had been here… Jesus, it didn’t have to end like this… Jesus, why didn’t you come sooner… Jesus, why didn’t you do something.”

I cry out to Him… You so could have been glorified in this! You could have raised him up off His sick bed and EVERYONE would have known it was only by YOU! It’s just so hard to understand. Such good people, gone so soon.

And just as He did with Mary, I can feel His gentle response to my questions, my confusion, my frustration, my grief…

Jesus wept.

Jesus doesn’t just understand our tears, He joins us in them.  There’s something about those words, “Jesus wept”, that have changed the way I grieve. Changed the way I have comforted others in their grief. I once mistakenly thought faith in Jesus meant that we could say things like “we will see them again someday” and that would make it alllll better. But it doesn’t. Because when you are standing at the casket of your child, someday feels like it’s a million years away. When you are sitting at a family dinner and there is an empty chair staring back at you, you want someday to be RIGHT NOW. When you have exciting news and the one who would rejoice the loudest is gone, someday just leaves you with silence.

Don’t get me wrong, someday gives us hope. Someday is something we can cling to in this world 

until we make it to the next.  Without someday I don't know how we would get through this day. But someday doesn’t make the pain go away.

I still pick up my phone and want to text Mary and share the news.  I still wish my dad could be there cheering Zach on as he runs the football down the field.  I wish I had the chance to tell him to stop screaming at the referees so loud.  I wish he were here to give Tali’s boyfriend a hard time. I wish… I wish I could get my mind around God’s plan that doesn’t always make sense.

But Jesus wept. When His friends Mary and Martha were grieving over Lazarus… He did too.  He knew that He had come to that place for the sole purpose of raising Lazarus up from the dead, not someday but THAT VERY DAY… and still He wept. He entered into their grief. He joined them there. He didn’t chastise them for not understanding, He didn’t turn around and leave because they questioned Him, He wasn’t let down by their accusing tone- Jesus, if only you had been here, our brother wouldn’t have died…

Instead He entered into their grief. And He cried with them. His heart was deeply moved by their mourning, and He wept. He didn’t tell Mary to get up and dust herself off. He joined her in the dirt.

For my friends who are grieving, I just want you to know that Jesus is too. Even though He knows the plans and the purposes… even though He is working all things to the good… even though He knows that Resurrection Day is COMING… He is still right there with you in the midst of your grief. He is sinking down in the dirt beside you and He will cry with you until you are ready, until you are able, to reach out and let Him help you up off your knees.  He can handle your questions.  He can handle you pounding on His chest and screaming “WHY?!” He can handle your tears. Because He loves you. And He understands.

Friends, Resurrection Day is coming. And the hope for those in Christ is that we will see our loved ones again. Until that day comes, it’s okay to miss them. It’s okay to wish they were here. It’s okay to wonder why. Even when I can't understand Him, I am comforted knowing He always understands ME. He understands you too. He grieves. He weeps. He sits in the dirt and He comforts you. 

Father,

Your Word tells us that you alone can turn our mourning into dancing. Your Word promises us that you are near to the broken hearted. Your Word assures us that those who mourn will be comforted. Your Word tells us that you will save those who are crushed in Spirit. Would you just make those words real for those who are grieving today? Jesus would you sit down in the dirt with them and just love them? Wrap your arms around them, let them FEEL your embrace in a most tangible way, Father. Whether the loss is a day old or a decade old, would you bring the comfort that only your Holy Spirit can bring. Fill them with the hope of someday, while you weep with them today. I love you Jesus, thank you for loving me. Jesus, I trust you. In your name we pray…

{when i gave up on my marriage}

I remember the days when I was ready to give up. When it was hard to love you. When it was hard to love me. I remember loud, violent fights. I remember throwing things and screaming in your face. I remember slapping you trying to evoke a response.

Such a bitter wife you had, Jim. Such a broken, confused, bitter wife. Full of sin and sadness and hatred.

I remember words that tore you down. Cut to the quick. I remember betrayal. I remember hurt. I remember chasing anything that might make me feel whole... or that would numb the pain I knew inside.

I remember giving up. Knowing in my heart that we weren't going to make it. That there was no way. Imagining what it would be like to not have my children on the weekends.

And then, oh then… the unexpected.

Then I bumped into Jesus.

Looking back, He had been there all along, pursuing, wooing, calling… but this time I realized it was Him. This time I was ready to relent. This time I was ready to give up and give in and throw my heart into His hands…

And slowly He began to heal the hurt, the hate, the bitterness… the brokenness he found there.

You didn’t understand what was going on. You saw me going to church on Sunday and yet during the week I was still this mess of a wife sometimes. It was such a struggle between who I had become and who I was becoming. I walked out my fledgling faith so poorly before you at first.

But things were changing at the heart level.

And even that day when I stood in our empty house with tears streaming down my face saying  ”God, this is IMPOSSIBLE! He hates me now! I have ruined everything!!! Tell me God, how in the world can we NOT get divorced?” Even when everything in me said there was no way, we had gone too far, said too much, hurt too deeply… I wanted to turn that sinking ship around and find shore before we drowned.

It seemed impossible. Everyone could see it. Our family, our friends, our children.

And then, there are the prayers of a three year old. There are the prayers of a three year old girl in her bed that no one knew about until last year… there are prayers of a little girl saying “God, please don’t let mom and dad get divorced.”

And God was listening.

Slowly, I learned what it meant to really follow Jesus. How to love like Him, even when it was hard. How to bite my tongue when everything in me wanted to argue or nag or convince. How to walk as a Godly wife, in submission even to one who did not yet believe.

And then, I gave up for real. I  realized that I couldn't fix what I had broken, only God could do that. I couldn't undo the hurt I had caused, only God could do that. I couldn't make my husband fall in love with me again, only God could do that.  

It was not me, but Jesus in me… refining and teaching me through this marriage.  It was Jesus fanning the flame of my first love and giving me the want to to make it work. It was Jesus listening to a little girl’s pure and simple prayer to keep her family together. It was Jesus teaching me how to love my husband with His love.

Jim, it was hard. It was hard to know what a bitter wife I had been to you. It was hard to know that the words you spoke out of hurt, came from wounds I placed there. I am so sorry, babe… I am so sorry.

And then Jesus called this one with so many words to live a quiet life before her husband. To love you well, even when it was hard. To let you lead, even when I thought I knew a better plan. He told me to get so completely out of the way, that He would have direct access to your heart. I was learning how to love you like Jesus does.

And we began to fight again. Not with each other, but for our marriage.

We fought with the tools of compromise and apologies and patience and perseverance.

Ours is truly a love worth fighting for. When I’m driving down the road and I think about the way your smile explodes into your eyes… I still get butterflies. When you sneak behind me in the kitchen and kiss my neck… there is still electricity.  The love I have in my heart for you has never been this big or this pure or this full of admiration.

You amaze me, Jim Boyles. You amaze me with your quiet love. You amaze me with your quiet service. You amaze me with your gentle care of me. The way you flirt with me and make me feel pretty. Figuring out how to make all my favorite foods gluten free.  Giving me the space to chase hard after Jesus. The way you care for others: building bedrooms for dreamed-of-children, mowing lawns without ever being asked, rescuing from the side of the road, coaching little men in so many more things than baseball and football- but also character and integrity and sportsmanship.

Thank you for not giving up on me. On us. On our family.

Friends, if you are at the end of your rope… ready to throw in the towel and walk away. Know this… God is able. He is able to take something that is broken and hurting and make something beautiful. He is able to take a marriage that is coding and bring new life. He is able to take your bitterness and replace it with love, your anger and give you gentleness, your hopelessness and give you HOPE. He is able. If He was able to take the mess that was Jim and Becky Boyles and create the beauty that we now know, truly He is able to do anything. 

I won't sugar coat it and tell you that the journey was easy- it was not. There were few steps forward and many steps back. But when I look over at the man driving us to church on a Sunday morning, my heart explodes with praise to the God that restores. I thank God that He gave me a heart of surrender in my marriage! I thank God that He showed me how to love this man well... 

{from mud to mercy}

Today I knelt by a black plastic horse trough filled with grace from a garden hose.

This one whom I had just met a few months ago came toward me. Her loose fitting jump suit not fitting an occasion such as this, but it is the only garment she has. No robe of white for her baptism. No heated baptistery. Just a striped jump suit, cold water, and grace.

And these hands. These hands of mine that have stolen and cheated. These hands that have been perverse and vile and violent. These hands on hers…

This mouth that once denied God. Words that once cursed, lied, slandered. Words that cut to the quick and then exploded with a death blow. Now a flow of love from the mercy seat…

“Jesus loves you so much, my friend. He loves you with everything…”

Tears streaming down her cheeks and mine. This is not how we picture grace. Our hearts grow cynical. Names in the paper become faceless statistics.  

But those names have stories.

And for this one, her story just collided headlong into grace. And it is being rewritten.

“Are you ready, sister? Are you ready to follow Jesus with your entire heart, and mind, and soul?”

Tears become sobs… and “yes, yes, yes, yes, yes” comes tumbling out of a spirit that is desperate for a Savior. Desperate for the promise of a hope and a future. Desperate for HIM.

And then from the same mouth that once denied Him… “I now baptize you, my sister, in the name of the Father… and of the Son… and of the Holy Spirit”.

And hands that were once stained with sin follow her as she kneels forward. All in.

All in.

Face forward into grace.

Water from a hose become a symbol of union with Him. Union in death, and union in New Life.

Water turned grace in the wash bay of a jail gushing over the sides of a black horse trough… I feel it’s cool on my hands and up my arms… splashing feet that had once taken the path of the prodigal… soaking the hem of my skirt. The hem of my garment.

An anointing like no other. An anointing of grace I have never known. An anointing of grace I would never have dared to dream about or imagine when my own desperate sobs cried out to Him in my sin.

That He could use a wretch like me. That He could use hands that have done such harm. That He could use a mouth that has wounded so many… as an instrument of grace.

He found me in the mud. He found me in a pig sty of my own making after I had demanded my inheritance and ran off to the far country. He let me get to the end of myself… He knew I had to… or I would never see my own desperate need for Him.

He watched as I went my own way. He wept as I made wrong choices. He hurt as I denied Him.

And somewhere in that mess… somewhere in that darkness… He declared “THAT ONE… bring her to me”… and sending His Son right into the center of my messy heart, He did just that. He sought me… He rescued me… He sent people to love me right where I was at. People who spoke grace and lived love and stirred a desire in me for more.

And now, my hands on the back of one who had just arrived to the end of herself.  My heart overflowing with His love for her.

As she steps from the water, overcome by His love, another comes.

And another.

And another.

Seven times I kneel by that beautiful baptistery.

Seven times He issues an invitation to love and mercy and grace.

Seven times His Bride says “yes”.

Seven times hearts are overwhelmed and tears fall and forgiveness is received and lives are reconciled.

Seven times His grace covers His Beloved.

Seven times striped jump suits are traded for robes of righteousness.

Seven times it splashes over the sides of a horse trough that could not contain it.  

And I am undone.

From mud to mercy. If ever those words were ever true of my story, they were true today. 

{overwhelmed}

After months of planning, dreaming, talking, saving, we arrived at Hilton Head Island. In the middle of a horrendous downpour. Unable to do the anticipated mad dash to the beach, we instead unloaded, unpacked, and headed to the grocery store to buy what we would need for the week. By the time we got back to our villa and had supper it was no longer raining, but it was also completely dark.

Despite the late hour, I still wanted to touch the beach... to see the ocean... even if by a moonlit sky. We were only a short walk over the boardwalk away, after all. And it had stopped raining. And it was our first time ever at Hilton Head. And my first time ever to see the ocean... and so we went.

As we walked across the boardwalk in the dark, I thought about my only other attempt to visit the ocean. I was eighteen years old with a friend of mine. We set out on the road for Virginia Beach, only to have the transmission go out on our car in the middle of the night in West Virginia. Days later with a brand spankin' new transmission we headed on... only to arrive in Virginia Beach in the middle of a tropical storm that had all local beaches closed. We spent one night within walking distance of the ocean, yet I headed home never having laid eyes on it.

This trip would not be the same. Come storm or high water or late arrivals- I would see the ocean. And not just the glimpse we could catch from our balcony... I wanted to touch it. To take in the enormity of the OCEAN... to gaze out over the endless waters and marvel at the fact that God measures all of it in the cup of His palm. I wanted to be overwhelmed... by the ocean, by the beauty of creation, by my God.

As we neared the ocean, the remnants of the evenings storms were still palpable in the air. The wind was rushing into our faces, making the perfect towel-cape blowing scenario for an eleven year old boy.  Yet within me was a growing unease. We passed only four people on the entire boardwalk. We saw no lights and heard no other voices in the night air. The roar of the waves grew louder. And with clouds overtaking the moon, darkness closed in on us as we stepped from the boardwalk to the beach. 

Jim, having been to the beach many times marched onward toward the waves. Tali, flashlight in hand followed close behind. Zach stood with me on the beach path for a few minutes, then seeing that nothing swooped in and swept away the rest of his family, he joined his sister and dad further down on the beach.

And I stood, frozen. The ocean was so LOUD. Why didn't I realize it would be so loud? A short distance away I could see the white waves crashing against the shore but other than that there was only the black of the night sky meeting the black of the water.  With the wind howling around me, darkness surrounding, and the roar of the ocean overtaking my senses… I was gripped with fear.

A couple came stumbling toward me as my family giggled a few yards down the beach. “Be careful!” the guy laughed… “you’ll get lost!” The girl picked up where he left off telling me about their nighttime adventure strolling the beach. Their words were full of joy… and yet they drove the stake of terror deeper into my heart. Lost?! The couple wandered away, giggling and holding hands.

“Let’s come back tomorrow” I called out to my family. They were straying too far into the darkness for my liking. While I couldn’t really see the ocean, I could feel it’s power and immensity. I was overwhelmed in the purest sense of the word. I was paralyzed with fear and terrified for my family to go any farther on the dark beach.

My son ran by me, towel over his head and flying behind him in proper fashion. Tali investigated something with her flashlight. Jim called out for me to come join him. But my feet would not move from their spot at the end of the boardwalk. Fear was gripping me, growing from a nagging concern deep in my heart to an overwhelming anxiety and confusion. I couldn't make sense of anything, it was all so unknown. As hard as I strained into the darkness I could only see black with a bit of white foam interrupting sporadically. 

Once, it took a storm to keep me from realizing my dream of walking in the ocean. This time, it took only my own fear of the unknown. I was 37 years old, standing on the shore for the first time in my life, and I was terrified. 

As I stood there, I could hear God whispering... teaching. I had come to the ocean to see His face, in a way. I wanted to TOUCH the immensity of the ocean that He holds in the depth of His palm. I wanted to look farther than my eye could see and know there was STILL MORE… that the waters went on and on and on and on. That they went down to depths I can't even imagine… just like this God that I love. Just like this God that loves me.

But we want to meet God in the bright light of day. In the comfort of a church sanctuary, or in the blessing of a new baby. We don't want to meet God in the darkness... when confusion and chaos abounds and all we hear is the roar of His power.

How many find themselves frozen at the end of the boardwalk when God is right there. Unable to see clearly, we don’t know where to step, or what this journey will require. How far can we go and be safe? How far can we go and not get lost? What if it overtakes us? What if it literally overwhelms us, sweeping over our heads and requiring everything? What if?

I looked at my family’s reactions to the exact same beach in the exact same dark with the exact same wind blowing their faces and the exact same ocean roar assaulting their ears.

My husband, having been to a beach at night before knew that there would be soft waters at the edge to warn you that you are close. He understood the gradual slope of a natural beach, and how far one would have to go to get even knee deep in the dark waters.  If he feared, he did not show it. He trusted what he knew about the ocean and the beach… and he marched confidently toward the waves.

My daughter, flashlight in hand and close behind the one she knew would never, ever lead her into danger didn't register a hint of fear either. She had a bit of light in her hand to illuminate her steps immediately before her, and was close to one that she trusted.

My son, hanging back at first. Pacing fearfully… yet anxious not to miss out on a single adventure this vacation had to offer. Waiting to make sure dad and sister were okay- then running with abandon around the beach.

They were not hindered by fear, at least not their own.

They were not hindered by fear, until I called out to them to return. Until they heard it in my voice, despite my chipper “let’s come back in the morning, when it’s light… We can come back when we can see and explore”… I am certain they all knew from my frozen stance on the beach that mom was not comfortable with this scenario. Not one little bit.

They were not hindered by fear, I until hindered them with mine.

Today we returned to the same beach by the same boardwalk. The wind is blowing in my face as I type these words. The roar of the ocean drowning out the squeals of nearby children.

But it’s entirely different in the light of day.

The ocean has not changed. It is still immense. Powerful. As I waded out in it this morning, waves crashed over my head and I cried out with delight. Psalm 42:7  immediately came to mind… “Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.” Literally His waves and breakers swept over me. And in the Light… it was welcomed and beautiful.

Before we know God… before we have His Light… He is so much. The power and the might and the majesty is just… too much. It is too dark and too frightening… too awesome. And we are overwhelmed. But if we would trust one who had walked before us, or take with us a tiny hand held light from His Word, or look to those running with abandon even in the unknown of His presence… maybe then we would have the confidence to step out of our fear and into the enormity of who He is.

Having met the ocean in the light, I’m curious what my response will be if we return tonight. I have a feeling that, having known the Light I will now have the confidence to explore even in the night.

When I came to the Lord, it was initially terrifying. I looked into my sin stained life and knew… the requirement would be high. I knew that He wasn't a God satisfied with a portion, but that in time, He would want it all. Everything. But, like the sun rising in my life I could see His beauty. I could see both His immensity, and the gentle way He crashed to the shore… the gradual slope of the beach into His depths. Even how, if we plant ourselves in beach chairs a safe distance from the crashing surf… He will eventually make His way to us with His rising tides tickling our toes.

Last night as we returned to our villa, not having touched the ocean, the Lord asked me if I was willing to trust Him in the dark, as well. To trust Him in the unknown… to trust Him in the dreams He has planted in my heart. To know that He is the same God at night as He is during the day… to take my knowledge of His gentle surf into the darkness with me. And to TRUST.

I wonder, reader, where you are in your experience with God? Is He still an overwhelming unknown? Take comfort in the scripture that says “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom”… know that as He did with me, on this beach last night… He will meet you in your fear, and begin to teach you the unsearchable truths of His Kingdom. Also remember that this is only the beginning of wisdom- He never desired that we would stay in this place. Rather He tells us that perfectlove casts out all fear! Take a step into the unknown, and then like dawn His light will begin to shine over your life. You will see and know the wonders of our Lord…

Or maybe you are like me… you have been walking with the Lord for some time now. You have known His miracles and seen His good works. You have seen His hand of protection and providence in your life. You have learned to trust Him in the light… but now the path before you is uncertain. It’s big and frightening and it seems as though it may overtake you. He wants you to be reminded today that He is the same God in the dark as He is in the light. He is the same God in the day as the night. He is the same God who met you in your first adventure on the beach, and He is the same God that will be there when your dream is within reach. He is the same.

Don’t let your fear tell you anything differently. Don’t let your fear cause you to focus on the roar of His power and miss the gentle tickling of the surf on your toes. Don’t let your fear convince you that the darkness will win. Don’t let your fear hold you captive at the end of the boardwalk.

Don't let your fear hinder you. 

Don't let your fear hinder the ones you love.

I wish this tale was one of a family who, in their excited first night at the beach, giggled and ran along the shoreline. How we got lost… and then found our way again. How we made memories that first night that will last a lifetime. But instead, my fear caused us to turn just shy of the ocean and return to the safety of what we already knew. I let my fear keep them from a memory, hold me back from putting my toes in the ocean...

Today we get a re-do. Today we sit at the beach and enjoy the surf and take in the wonder of God's

handiwork. Today, I stood at the edge of an endless ocean and cried tears at the enormous beauty of it all. Today we played in the surf and napped at the waters edge. Tonight we can walk to the beach again, and take with us the knowledge of what we saw in the light. I can step into the unknown confidently, taking with me the lessons learned last night.

We don't always get a re-do in this life. Friends, don't let your fear of the unknown you paralyze you at the end of the boardwalk. Don't let the dream you can't see clearly fade into the distance as you return to the thing you have already known. Don't miss out on adventure with our great, big God because His power seems so overwhelming in the darkness of this life.

Step into the sand. Let the enormous power of the ocean meet you with gentle surf. Take it all in.

Don't let fear hinder you... or the ones you love.

two little men

Isn't it strange how God can use the most common things... things that may seem so insignificant to others... to speak directly to your heart?

He did that to me on Saturday night as I was scrolling through my Facebook wall on my phone. I came across this check in at Mi Pueblo, where a small group of us had gathered to discuss the Micah 6:8 Project...

Had she tagged us in a different order, I wonder if I would have even noticed. I wonder if I would have stopped. I wonder if I would have cried...

But tagged as we were, my heart was assaulted by the vision of two little boys, both on the water... 

One, my son. My very own profile picture. I love this picture of Zach, such JOY, such ABANDON, such FREEDOM. He was at the lake with friends, a place of recreation and fun and laughs and adventure. 

But not for the little boy in the next picture. Not for the little man captured by Christy Farhar. The lake for him... a place of bondage. Work. Pain. Enslaved in Lake Volta's fishing industry along with 7,000 other children. The joy of the little white boy next to him, surely a distant memory... if he has ever known it. 

And as I thought about this... 

Oh, how I wept. 

I wondered... what would I do, if it were my Zach enslaved on that lake?. What ends would I go to rescue him, to bring him home, to let him know that I love him... to make sure He is safe and secure? How much money would I spend? What sacrifice would I make? My very own son, the one whom I love from the depths of who I am... how far would I go?

But the truth is, friends, the little man in Christy's picture is no less our son. He is no less our flesh and blood. He is no less valuable. No less in need of a hope and a future. No less in the eyes of God. Just because I have not yet put my arms around his little brown body... He is no less mine to care for. 

He is no less yours.

Think about your own children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews... if they were trapped in slavery, forced to work fourteen hour days, fed one inadequate meal, uneducated... how far would you go? What sacrifice would you make?

I challenge you... to let your mind go there. Really rest in that pain for a moment. Because in the Kingdom, he is ours. And if you would go to the ends of the earth to rescue the one you love, should you not be willing to do the same for the one He loves? Should our hearts not break for the things that break His? How far would you go?

Yesterday in church, Seth shared the story of the Grapevine Faith football game against the Gainesville State School in Texas. How the whole town of Grapevine rallied around the boys from Gainesville- the boys brought in on a maximum security bus with twelve armed guards. How the parents of the Grapevine players sat behind the Gainesville boys, cheering them on to hit their very own sons. How the cheerleaders stood in a line and cheered on the Tornadoes, even though the front of their uniforms said "Lions". How they rooted for the Gainesville boys instead of their own kids... because that's what Jesus would have them to do. 

And the whole time he was talking, as the tears made their way down my cheeks, I thought of the picture of two little men on my Facebook wall. One I do not know, and one that I would die for... and the Lord challenged my heart... would you root for this little naked child over your own? Would you cause your own son to sacrifice from abundance, so that this one could have the most basic of necessities... food, clothing, freedom.

photo by Christopher Knopf, September 2012

That is my challenge for you today, friends. Look into these eyes... and see the one you love. Wrap your mind, even if just for a moment, around the kind of life these children in Ghana know. 

And then resolve in your heart to do something to help. Don't just look in his face and then closing your browser window, forget. What does the Lord require of you? But to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8 He requires us to look into this face... and then to reach down our very own hands to help. He requires it, friends. Acts of justice are not something the Lord takes lightly... and when He called us to be His hands and feet, sometimes it will look just like this.

I realize that not everyone will walk in this dusty African soil, take the broken by the hand and lead them into a new life. But there are ways you can help from right there, where you are... whether you are on your couch or at your kitchen table or sitting at your desk at work or in your car... There are ways that you can reach out a hand to the least of these. To the ones who can never repay you. To the ones whom, if you would bend your knee and look in their eyes you will realize look an awful lot like the ones you love the most. Wherever you are, whether you have much or little, there is something that YOU can do. 

You can partner with us at the Micah 6:8 Project to build a residential and vocational center so that more children can be brought home off the lake. Our partners promise a monthly gift of any amount, and will be the backbone of this project, sustaining it for years to come. Bringing a hope and a future.

Or you can join us in our first annual Prayer 5k. For gifts of $35 or $50, you can join us in our goal of raising $5000 and 5000 prayers for this project... making a way for a mission team to travel to Ghana in November to look at land that has been provided by the very hand of God, land that is ours for the taking if it meets our needs. Land that will allow us to build the orphanage to house kids who deserve the same education, freedom, love, hope that we desire for all of our own children to have.

Are you willing? 

Are you willing to sacrifice from your own child's abundance, so that the children of Ghana may have the most basic of necessities? Is it worth $50 to look into the eyes of this little boy and know you have done something to help? Oh, if that were my Zachary wrapped in brown skin... oh, there is no sacrifice that would be too great... am I willing to open my eyes to the truth that this one I have never met, is no less mine? No less a part of my heart? 

I see it now. I see it in a whole new way. Two pictures of little men on lakes, lakes that are a world apart geographically and emotionally... a casual scroll down my Facebook wall... and my heart is wrecked. I can't stop crying. I can't stop wondering what more can I do? 

If you feel as helpless to help as I do, I would ask you to visit The Micah 6:8 Project to see how you CAN help. Give a financial gift of any amount. Join us in our Prayer 5k (a 5k that involves no walking or running, instead 3.5 days of prayer for this project and the lives it will touch). There are only five days left to register, and we are only a third of the way to our goal of one hundred people to participate... one hundred people. Surely there are one hundred of you whose hearts will break for the things that break His? Surely there are one hundred of you who are willing to sacrifice $35 or $50 to bring freedom to the lives of children... surely...surely there are.

I am willing. I have looked into those dark brown eyes and seen my own children. Are you willing to do the same? Are you willing to love on Jesus the way He really asked us to love on Him, not through arms raised or voices loud... but by loving the very least of these? Pray about it friends... and then do something...

Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress. James 1:27

Father, would you move our hearts? Lord would you break our hearts for what breaks yours? Will you bring each of us an individual revelation of that which you've required of us... what it really looks like to act justly? to love mercy? to walk humbly? Would you open our eyes to the needs of this world and show us, Father, that if we sacrifice for you, that if we give in the way you have asked us to give... that we will not have to worry about a thing. That you are the God who owns the cattle on a thousand hills, and that you have us covered? Move on hearts today! Father I ask that you bring abundant support for the Micah 6:8 Project, that you would continue to confirm your will for this home in Ghana by bringing the project exactly what it needs! Lord I thank you that you are a God who is able... a God who is able to humble my heart and show me where I have failed to break, a God who is able to do this incredible thing in Ghana, a God who is able to use something like a check in at a Mexican restaurant to challenge my heart and change my mindset... I love you so much... Let us do this for YOUR glory!

living in the {in between}

The debate was long and wavering. Do we stay in the new house or not? Aunt Sharon still had a few things to pack... I wanted to give her the space to do that, Jim was ready to get IN. The kids were excited to start their new school year from The New House. We had people lined up to help move on Saturday. This was Wednesday. Could we not wait a few more days for the dream God had planted in our hearts to be realized? Isn't patience a virtue?

Tali, the kid who always says the thing everyone in the room/family/group is thinking [not sure where she would get that from??] told Sharon (in conversation) it wouldn't really be our house til we slept here. Aunt Sharon answered "well, you can start sleeping here anytime you want!"

Yes, that's all Jim needed to hear.

The next day I called to see what he was doing... "taking the bunk beds apart". He was matter-of-fact. There was no room for discussion or debate. We were sleeping in The New House. Tonight.

This is for real.

I was driving in my truck and suddenly those tears that I had held onto for so long began to flood down my cheeks.

We are really, really, really moving.

After the disappointment of "the other house"... it was so, so, so, hard to let my heart believe.Despite the promises, the talk, the blog post, the facebook statuses, the decorations purchased, the plans made... I have to be honest with you, friends... I didn't really believe it until that moment. [insert ugly cry here]

The reality of God's faithfulness hit me like never before. He is a God that does what He says He is going to do. I have said that dozens, hundreds of times. Now I was living it.

How can something make you feel so small and so significant all at the same time? The awe of a God who is SO BIG that He gets to do whatever He wants to do? A God who knew from the BEGINNING the plans He had for our family? That the same God that spoke the UNIVERSE into EXISTENCE would give a flying fig where the Boyles family lived!? That He would love us so stinking much! That with the injustices of the world and the millions of prayers whispered, spoken, screamed every day... that He would hear MINE. A God so faithful that He would take us through the pain of disappointment so that we could learn how to lean... who let us feel *that* so we could fully appreciate *this*.

And so, the beds moved to Bruceville.

And with them, the Boyles family.

our first night in the new house

That evening was a blur. We ate some sort of supper that night, I think... [Lord tell me I fed the children the night before their first day of school?] We packed the back of my truck with clothes, bedding and other necessities. Beds went up. Jim made more trips back to Edwardsport for this or that which we needed to survive [back packs]. The kids lay on the living room floor watching a show in their kindle fires. And then we headed to bed.

I will never forget the feeling of laying there in my bed in this new house. I felt foreign. Like I was somewhere I didn't belong... sleeping in someone else's house.  Walking in the promise we had stood on so long. Jim and I could not sleep. Despite our exhaustion we talked through the night. I found out the next day, Tali and Zach lay awake deep into the night as well.

The next day I visited the old house. I expected to walk in and be washed by a wave of nostalgia, maybe even a tinge of sadness... but instead I found that it felt even smaller. More claustrophobic. The decor more dated. Less like home. In fact, it felt foreign too.

That night I told Jim, "here we have two houses... and neither of them feel like home"... don't get me wrong, we were over-the-moon, out-of-our-minds ecstatic about The New House... it just didn't feel like home yet. 

After exhaustion finally won the battle in the man next to me, I lay there alone with me thoughts. Two houses, no home.

As I talked with God that night... He whispered to my heart that this is a little bit like the life He expects us to live on this earth.

Friends, this world is not your home, so don't make yourselves cozy in it. Don't indulge your ego at the expense of your soul. Live an exemplary life among the natives so that your actions will refute their prejudices. Then they'll be won over to God's side and be there to join in the celebration when he arrives. 1 Peter 2:11 MSG

This world... no more our home than that old house. This world, crowded, claustrophobic, less than His desire for our lives. Toilet that doesn't flush right. Wallpaper border torn by the busy hands of a toddler. Carpets stained. Cracks in the ceiling from a tree limb that fell. And so small in the face of His Kingdom. The Kingdom that stretches across time and space.

Yet how many of us really feel at home in this Kingdom-life either? How many of us feel like we don't quite belong. We aren't quite good enough. We don't deserve a garden tub in our bathroom. Or more kitchen cabinets than we can fill. A living room that can comfortably host our friends. Sometimes I feel like I'm not good enough for THIS promise:

..."In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you..." John 14:2 NIV84

Jesus Christ, raised in the home of a carpenter... likely taught the trade by his earthly father... Preparing a HOME for me... for you... for us... in His Father's Heavenly kingdom!

When I think about that... the tears flow just as they did the moment Jim said "I'm taking the bunk beds apart".

This is really happening. He is really preparing a place for us. As amazing as this new house is... it is nothing compared the the one He is preparing in eternity! Good enough? I did nothing to deserve this house. I can do nothing to deserve Heaven. It's all His grace. His beautiful, astounding, extraordinary, amazing GRACE. This is the Kingdom life He has promised us, the eternity He has prepared for us... to join Him where He is.

But until then... we find ourselves living in the {in between}. In that place of being in the world but not of the world. In that place of knowing that our real home is with God, and feeling like aliens and strangers here... hearts that reside in the Kingdom, bodies in the world.  Laying in your bed, in Aunt Sharon's house.  But don't think that this {in between} time is just a time of waiting... no, it's a time of taking down the bunk beds and moving them on into the Kingdom. It's bringing Kingdom Living to this earth through our lives. It's living the Promise, and inviting others to live it with us. At first... it's going to feel pretty weird. When you first move into the Kingdom, it might feel a lot like you are living in someone else's house, enjoying someone else's promise. But the more time you spend in the Kingdom, the more time you spend painting the walls of your heart with the Word, the more time you spend communing with family there, inviting friends over and feeding them from your table... the more it will begin to feel like home.

We have been in the new house for three weeks tonight. We are still figuring things out- like how much cold water to mix with the hot in the shower (you know how you have it dialed right in to that perfect temp after fifteen years in the same shower?) How many clothes it takes to make a full load in that giant washer and dryer. That one must only use a small (very small) amount of bubbles when adding them to a bathtub with jets. That we can sweep the kitchen floor a dozen times a day, and it's still going to get tracked on. Where the outlets are (all fifteen trillion of them, it's GLORIOUS). We have painted the kitchen, hung a few pictures, decorated the tops of the cabinets... left towels on the floor overnight. We have begun to settle in.  Bibles on tables. Photography stuff piled in the door. This is where we live. In this promise fulfilled.

Tali told me that a couple of nights ago, she was laying in bed reading a book when she just closed it, and lay there thinking "I have MY OWN ROOM. This is MINE."

It's still surreal. Part of me hopes that it always is. That I can always feel the wonder of a dream fulfilled by the only One able. That as I walk through this house, bumping into things in the dark, I will be reminded of what it's like to walk out of this world and into the Kingdom. Eventually I will be able to navigate with my eyes closed... oh that my heart would be so comfortable in the Kingdom living that I will be guided by my spiritual eyes rather than physical ones!  That the grandfather clock chiming would always be a reminder that He is an ON TIME GOD. That our family will be forever changed by His faithfulness, and that we should never, ever, ever forget how faith opened the door to this new home.

Lord, would you help us see the beauty of your Kingdom here on earth? in our hearts? Will you help us to live this {in between} life... aliens here longing for there... to the fullest glory of You? Will you remind us daily of our blessings, of our abundant life in you, of the things that really matter. Not houses, not paint, not pretty decor... but eternity spent in you. Letting your Kingdom reign in our hearts and in our homes... bringing it to our communities and the people who desperately need it the most. Thank you Father, for your faithfulness, for hearing our prayers, and for loving us so stinking much...

A few more pics for your viewing pleasure... bringing the Boyles' touch to a new house is fun. bringing your heart into the Kingdom is even better :)

t&z on our back deck the first day of school

a rare picture of zach painting. this lasted approximately ten minutes.

on the mantle. surreal.

kitchen decor. and that's our new-fangled chore sheet on the fridge
(used a sharpie for the lines, and dry erase marker for the rest so we don't have to print one every week)

just portion of our counter space- and this picture alone is more than we had in our entire kitchen at the old house.

above our sink so that we may never, ever forget

when normal becomes extraordinary

Last night I stayed up with most of America, much of the world, and all of Twitterdom to watch the Women’s Gymnastic Team take GOLD GOLD GOLD GOLD in the team all-around competition. Were you watching in amazement with the rest of us? Did you cry when the final scores hit the board?

Isn’t  it funny how year after year, we come to find ourselves on first name basis with the entire team?   I still remember routines by Mary Lou, Carly, Nastia, Shawn… and last night’s performances by Gabby, Jordan, Ally (and her parents), Kayla, and McKayla will go on the shelf of my Olympic memories with the others.  [What about THIS vault… seriously!?]

It was truly something to behold. The women… girls really… on the world’s stage.  A lifetime of training, sacrifice, and dreams come down to this moment.  Two minute routines on a spring floor. Fifteen second bursts of power from the vault.  A minute’s worth of gasps as they twirl around the uneven bars.  Three minutes of courage and poise atop that beam.

{to this day I can’t see a beam routine without thinking about THIS sermon illustration by Francis Chan, take a few minutes to watch it. I’ll wait.}

Last night as I questioned choices about hair [I'm a stickler for a proper pony tail or bun, folks], found myself wanting to meet the adorable little female coach, and marveled at one nearly flawless routine after another from the Fab Five… I was struck by one word they kept repeating to one another as each went up to do her part…

“Normal”.

Just do it normal. You don’t have to do anything supernatural or extraordinary or miraculous… because you have trained so hard, spent so much time in the gym, practiced this routine so many times that your normal has become extraordinary.

“Normal”… the word was comforting to the ears of this sixth member of the team (I cried like I was going to take the stand when they won, after all). “You don’t have to pull a trick out of your hat, Gabby… just do what you know how to do…”  Crazy release moves that look impossible to connect… that’s your normal. 

And I wondered…

If that isn’t what or faith walks should be like.

Walks where extraordinary leaps… are our normal. Where trusting God instead of clinging to the beam {did you watch that Francis Chan video? If not, go back and watch, we’ll pause the programming for ya} is our natural. Where we don’t have to pull any rabbits out of our hats because we have spent so much time in the Word, are so prayed up, and have practiced His presence enough that the supernatural becomes our normal and our normal has become extraordinary.

Where stopping to pray with a friend, right then and there is just what we do. Where laying hands on the sick and healing is the norm. Where God says “go” and we go. Or “wait” and we wait. When He asks us to give until it hurts and we actually do it. And then we see Malachi’s word come to pass in ourlives as glory and power pour out into us.

Where extraordinary ministries like Paul’s are birthed. He laid hands on people and they were healed. He was imprisoned and the chains just fell off. People would run home with bits of cloth he had prayed for because there was power and healing in them.

Ministries marked by obedience.  Ministries marked by having met God face to face. Ministries marked by changed lives. Ministries marked by being completely and 100% sold out to the cause of Christ.

You and I can have that too.  We can have lives where the extraordinary becomes our normal.

When we are willing to obey.

When we are willing to sacrifice.

When we are willing to really turn from sin.

When we are willing to be sold out for Him.

When we are willing to be in our Word. Every day.

When we are willing to pray without ceasing.

When we are willing to trust that He is enough. Our Divine spotter. And that even if we try, and fail… He will use that to grow and refine us.

I want that kind of ministry. I want that kind of life. I want signs and wonders and miracles and supernatural and extraordinary to become my normal.

But I am not  going to become an Olympian by sitting on my couch and wanting. And I’ve been doing a lot of that lately. I’ve been doing a lot of settling. And selfish living. And distraction.  It’s time to get this boat back on course.

It’s going to take work and sacrifice and obedience on my part. Like Gabby Douglas, it may mean leaving the comfort of everything I know to go deep into training for a year and a half (not seeing her mother a single time except for at meets…) 

Am I willing to give it all for Him?

Are you?

It may look differently than we expected, as little Jordan Weber discovered when cut from the Women’s All-Around Finals (which seems so, so, unfair…)

Am I willing to wipe the tears of disappointment from my cheeks and go to work for the team, the Body, the Bride… anyway?

Are you?

I want to live a life where “normal” looks a little like double lay out dismounts with a twist. Or aerials as high as my head. Or vaults that defy logic.  Where enormous leaps of faith are normal. Where miracles are normal. Where really TRUSTING Him is normal. Where normal has become extraordinary. 

Where normal is anything BUT normal.

[What about you? If you want to enter a season of training, of praying and seeking, with me... would you drop me a line? We'll figure out a way to set up a group... to hold one another accountable to deeper reliance on Him, bigger leaps, more extraordinary normals.] 

Father, help us to redefine our normal. Help us to have a faith that expects the extraordinary, and that trusts your will for our lives. Father… I confess that I have become distracted. I confess that I have not spent time with you, and Lord I long to change that. Would you help me? Would you send the conviction of your Holy Spirit to right my path? To turn my face toward you? Will you send along fellow athletes, Father, to work toward taking amazing leaps for you? I thank you for who you are, and for the way you can use one little word to refocus my life and my heart. I love you so much, Jesus… it’s in your name I pray… Amen.