escape.

Having made the long drive down I-5 to southern California 3 times within the last 5 months, I have come appreciate much of God's creation that can be seen from the car window along the way. The area I look forward to most is definitely the stretch of rolling hills somewhere over the California border. Being an Oregon native, I have no idea where this area actually is in relation to the rest of the state, but it certainly is hard to miss. Grassy hills span what seems to be many acres of land, extending far beyond what one can see from the road. No matter who my companions are or how deep we may be in conversation, as soon as those hills come into sight my eyes are glued to the window. My imagination runs wild with thoughts of racing, spinning, strolling, and rolling through the hills, with only my Jesus keeping my me company. The further I run into the hills, finding the most obscure crevices to bury myself in, the more my troubles and stresses and agendas of every day life simply melt away. There are no people to confuse me or let me down, no expections forced upon me by society, no responsibilities, no fear of failing others or failing myself.

An escape.

Everytime these wistful thoughts cross my mind while I drool over those hills of freedom and abandonment, I find them to be fleeting and short of satisfaction. Aside from knowing that the escape found in the hills couldn't last for long, since the fields lack many things necessary for survival, there is an additional emptiness to those thoughts of running away. Although I know Jesus loves some quality, un-interrupted Britni time, I also know he desires to use me and put me on this earth that I may bear fruit and further his Kingdom. Running from this world may offer a bit of instant gratification and relief, but it also sufficiently seperates me from those broken people that Jesus wants to use me and my testimony to extend his love.

For lack of knowing how to articulate a conclusion to this simple concept, I'll draw on the Word of Yahweh. He usually knows how to say it best :)

When talking to His Father, Jesus asks that we "not be taken out of the World, but that He protect us from the evil one." (John 17)

Therefore we are to be IN this world, among the people of this world, facing the same struggles, hardships, disappointments, frustrations, temptations and sin that the people of this world are facing. The only difference (a BIG difference at that) is that we are living in this world under the protection of the One who created it. Now, shouldn't we also be offering that saving grace and protection to those we are living with?

Join me in running to the people, not to the hills.

take heart.

I hardly ever cried as a kid. In fact, I actually took pride in the fact that more often than not, I would be the only member of my family not crying in a specific situation. It beats me as to why I found this trait admirable--whether it was because I had adopted a 'tough girl' persona to compliment my identity as an athlete, or it was an effort to counteract the innocent and naive air that my high-pitched voice and childish features...regardless of the reasoning, the sweet release of hot tears down my cheek rarely occurred.

However, with a recent average of about one emotional breakdown per week, this characteristic of the former Britni is long gone. My coping mechanism is shifting from a quiet containment of all emotion to a violent, weeping episode of grief, as God is revealing to me a whole new level of his sensitive heart. Each day that I walk through this world, it becomes more and more blaring and apparent that people are tattered and worn. broken. Any time I choose to willingly open my eyes, hopelessness is staring back into my eyes, harshly holding my gaze. What's more, I have discovered a whole new definition to the word hopeless...the woman who has abused her body through prostitution for years and now finds herself with nothing left to offer a man, yet the only people in her life are men who want more...the man who trudges through life with empty pockets and alcohol bottle in hand, only bothering to sober up for his son's basketball games, but debilitating himself to be a father in any other vicinity...the woman who lost her husband and her home, her family has long since abandoned her, and her frail and elderly body can't support a lifestyle of living alone...the child who was robbed of parents at birth due to a fatal disease, and is left to the chance of charity for survival...hopeless.

While walking to the coffee shop where I am sitting now, I passed a young boy being lifted into an ambulance. I observed those passing by, and noted that every person unashamedly gawked and stared as they walked by. We are fascinated by others in pain, in crisis, in trauma. You start telling a gruesome story of a brutal injury or a startling crime and everyone listening sits with rapt attention. Why? I have to assume it is more than just intrigue and curiosity. Humans were made for community and relation. First and foremost, we were created to commune with our God, and secondly to relate to each other. We crave hearing stories that we can cling to and relate to-we yearn to know others who can share in our pain and our joy, our heartache and our success.

So, brothers and sisters, where is this unity that we were so clearly created for? Why are these people suffering in complete hopelessness left to suffer alone? We are all human beings, from the most evil child molester to the most innocent, sweet old woman. We were all created with purpose in mind, all with the purpose of being made into children of God, all with the need for relationship, community, love.

I challenge you now: arm yourself with the penetrating, transforming love of Christ and stand to meet the fierce gaze of hopelessness. Stare it down to the ground and let growth and grace rise in its place.
Romans 12:9-16 "Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good. Be devoted to one another in brotherly love. Honor one another above yourselves. Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord. Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. Share with God's people who are in need. Practice hospitality.

Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn. Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited"

merely but a vessel.

2 Timothy 2:20-22"Now in a large house there are not only gold and silver vessels, but also vessels of wood and of earthenware, and some to honor and some to dishonor. Therefore, if anyone cleanses himself from these things, he will be a vessel for honor, sanctified, useful to the Master, prepared for every good work. Now flee from youthful lusts and pursue righteousness,faith, love and peace, with those who call on the Lord from a pure heart."

I am merely but a vessel, intricately crafted by my Creator with the purpose of holding and overflowing his love. This has only become clearly evident to me recently, as the chips and cracks inflicted upon my fragile clay body have penetrated all the way through: leaving me in broken shambles at the foot of my Creator. Over the course of my life I have been nicked and damaged, but my outer shell has withstood these blows so that I have not yet been shattered. I had learned to scrounge around my environment in search of pitiful improvisations with which to mend my imperfections: putty, toothpaste, glue..anything that might suffice in place of the genuine clay that Christ used when he first created me. Naturally, this didn't make for a vessel that could hold much of what I was intended to carry, at least not for any length of time. But at least I appeared whole to the naked eye, my audience didn't need to know the purpose I was originally crafted for.
But now I find myself having been broken. My pitiful attempts to cover my brokenness have entirely crumbled away, leaving a mess of jagged shards and ugly scraps of what was once an elegant masterpiece. How shocking and heartbreaking it must have been for my Creator when he first noticed t he utter destruction his handiwork had been subjected to.

But I do not sing a song of remorse and despair! For my creator has patience and hope that outlasts even the grimmest of situations.

He is taking the fragments of baked clay littered at the foot of His cross and gently yet precisely fusing them back together. The most beautiful part of it is that though faint lines can still be seen where the cracks once were, the vessel he is putting back together is seamless and completely sealed. Soon, I will be able to hold his Living Water inside of me without a single drop being able to escape.
As I am being delicately repaired, I am beginning to understand more and more of my purpose. I have a calling so much greater than that of being admired from a distance, as I was previously settling for. When my Beloved first sat at his pottery wheel and stared at the meager lump of clay in His hands, he dreamed of a child set apart: one who would bring Him glory and fall before Him, one who would reap His sacred harvest and be His hands and feet in this lost and broken world. I was created to be filled with His Living Water. I was called to one day be filled to overflowing with that life-giving Water, so others may drink of it as well. At this season in my life, I am still allowing Him to repair me so that I may be able to hold more of Him, and people in my life may come and take a sip from the rough rim of my jar. One day, in His sovereign timing, I will be fully r epaired and he will continue pouring into me, so that I will literally overflow with the Life he gives.

"Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and your soul will delight in the richest of fare...Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near." (Isaiah 55:1-2, 6)

My favorite part of being a vessel is that that is all I really am. It is HIS Living Water within me that brings life. It is He who created me, mends my broken pieces, and equips me to hold His water. It is He who pours abundance into me to others may partake.


He is the source. And a beautiful one at that.

"Sculpting every move, you compose a symphony."

fog.

"Sometimes we are called to come down from the hill where the light is and step into the fog. We go there to help those who don't know Him to interpret the light when it reaches them. Let God burn the clouds away while we reach to His people."One of the most treasured moments of my day is when I open the door to my warm, inviting apartment after my last class, pull on a pair of my dad's old sweats (which are always more comfortable than my own) and burrow down into my rocking love seat..topping it off with my Snuggie, of course. Nothing compares to being bundled up in multiple layers, a cup of tea in hand, and the stresses of the day disappearing into the distance; it's the epitome of comfort.
Now, shift gears:
My brother Seth and I always cringed at the question frequented by our dad during our childhood: "Hey kids, how about some 'bonding time' with dad this afternoon?" Don't get me wrong, I love my daddy and very much enjoy spending quality time with him...but that's not exactly what he was referring to. 'Bonding time' with dad usually consisted of pulling weeds in our beast of a garden, edging the lawn by hand, raking leaves, or something to that nature. These activities were never at the top of my list for how I preferred to spend my afternoon, and the clothing attire required was decidedly less comfortable than that of my snuggle-wear mentioned previously. In gearing up for yardwork, mom made sure I put on my "grubbies," and dad was always considerate in offering me a pair of his old work gloves, which never failed to be twice the size of my hands. I was undoubtedly a sight for sore eyes. Once again, the most rewarding the aspect of 'bonding time' (aside from actually spending time with dad, of course) was coming inside afterward and changing into my warm, comfortable sweats.
Recently I have been challenged in my faith at the realization that I have been inching back towards my precious and well-guarded comfort zone. God has turned my life upside down numerous times throughout the past 20 years, and brought me to a beautiful place OUTSIDE of my comfort zone where I was priveliged to fully rely on Him. He had called me to lay down my Snuggie, pull on some grubbies and get my hands dirty, often times even providing me with the work boots or oversized gloves. I am always welcome to come back inside and warm myself by the fire, maybe even slip on a sweatshirt or blanket, but never with the intent to stay inside.
1 Corinthians 12:27 Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.
Christ has called and anointed us to be his body, and I am pretty certain that His body includes hands and feet. Though I know he calls us to dwell with Him in His Secret Place, wrapped up in our Snuggie with full view of the Light, He most definitely is also calling us to dress down and step down into the fog, to bring the illumination of his Truth to a generation that is wandering blindly.
'Bonding Time' with the Father is actually sounding fairly appealing now, ironically.

worth sharing.

"Cross over, My children,
From all you have known, seen and tasted of My presence.

For all that has passed before you on the journey of worship
Has been to bring you to this place.

For I am taking the heart of stone
Out of the lives of My people
To free them from selfish restraint and self-preoccupation
That they may behold Me.

In these days, I will be your reward as you worship.
You will enter into that place of adoration
That the angels occupy around My throne.

For it shall be on earth, even as it is in heaven.
Worship from the earth shall ascend and meet
Worship descending from heaven.
When the first heaven meets the third heaven
In adoration,
All that is demonic in the second heaven
Shall be displaced by the weight of glory.

For I shall come down into that place of adoration
As you seat me on the throne of your passion.
When I come, all things will change.
I will adorn My bride with My beauty
And make her ready for My intimate embrace.

Cross over, My children,
Set your heart to cross over
Into a new land of worship.

Press in, press in,
Learn to stand in joy and admiration.
Receive the stamina, the discipline, the will
To push your heart forward.

Give yourself, do not withhold,
But push, push on, push through.
Give birth to a new song
That will captivate your heart as it captivates Mine.

This song will fill the earth.
It will fill My house.
It will fill My temple
Even as it fills your heart.

A new land awaits you.
Go in and possess your possessions.

In worship, in adoration,
Receive My longing for you.
Let My aching heart refresh you,
Replenish you, restore you."

(Drawing Close by Graham Cooke)

garden.

I'm no longer my own I'm Your garden.


My thumb doesn't have even the slightest green tint to it. I have always admired those who find solace in their gardens, those who could waste their days away merely pulling weeds, planting bulbs, and pruning limbs..but alas, I fall more in the category of someone who finds a way to kill even the plastic indoor plants.
Thankfully, this has in no way deferred the diligent work of the Ultimate Gardener in my life. God let me in on a brilliant revelation the other day: I am his garden. It makes so much sense, in so many ways..it's a wonder I didn't catch on sooner! We serve a clever God indeed. :)

As my own personal Gardener, my Beloved cares for me tenderly and delicately. He takes note of my sweet and gentle petals, and faithfully protects every baby green shoot that ventures to poke its head out of the soil. He waters me daily, taking care to not drown my fragile roots, and is sure to add some fertilizer on those days that are especially dry. His rays of sunlight stimulate my growth and coax me to let my petals bloom. When weeds sprout up in attempt of choking my roots and stealing my nourishment, he plucks them out..and being the meticulous Gardener that he is, my Beloved makes a point to get those weeds out at the root-none of that surface business. He is even teaching me to recognize those weeds that disguise themselves as flowers, so I can learn to not let them take root in the first place. One of my favorite things about having my Beloved as my Gardener is how he loves to admire my beauty. He takes time to sit and smell the fragrance of my flowers, and simply take in the simple elegance of my vibrant colors and textures. Though it's not all about aesthetics; gardens require upkeep as well. In his love for me, my Gardener gently prunes and discards those branches that detract from my beauty, and those flowers that I have allowed to wilt and die. Pruning can be a long and painful process, but is necessary in order to achieve my ultimate purpose as a garden: a harvest. All of his dedication in tending to and caring for me is essentially so that I may bear fruit for him to enjoy. I sit in precious anticipation for the day of the full harvest..but until that day I am enjoying this period of growth and new life!

Isaiah 58:11 The LORD will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.

Song of Solomon 4:12 You are a garden locked up, my sister, my bride; you are a spring enclosed, a sealed fountain.

John 15:1 "I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.



It's You and me alone God You and me alone Here it's You and me alone God You and me alone

You've hedged me in with skin all around me I'm a garden enclosed a locked garden Life takes place behind the face.

So come into Your garden Come into Your garden.

Here O Lord! Have I prepared a place for You!

I'm no longer my own I'm Your garden.

heart.

I think the heart is much more fragile than we realize. But, we must cherish that delicacy, not squander it.
Jesus showed me a picture the other day of how we can best take care of our tender hearts.

He started by showing me an image of his royal sword pinning my heart into the ground, holding it stable--he chose me. A strong wind then proceeded blow all of my heart away, leaving only the tiny piece that was held down by the sword. I picked up that remaining fragment of my heart, and timidly held it up to my Lord. My demeanor was similar to that of a young girl holding up her somewhat pitiful stick-figure drawing to her mom or dad. Though my offering was meager, battered and bruised, my Jesus looked upon it with pride and absolute bliss. He told me gently that it was very important for me to keep my arm extended towards him, and to keep my hand open and unclenched. Times might become seemingly volatile, but I needed to trust him with this precious cargo. Soon enough, a violent storm raged about me, and it appeared that my heart could go flying out of my hand at any moment. But I obeyed what he asked, and left my fingers open and my heart exposed. He rewarded my trust as his gentle hands slowly enclosed my small hand, protecting my heart in his delicate grasp.
And now he tells me, "My child, I have created your heart to be sweet and delicate with the purpose that you would need me to guard it and cherish it. Leave it in my hands and I will gladly keep it safe from harm, and restore it in fullness."

Psalm 119:32 I run in the path of your commands, for you have set my heart free.
Proverbs 4:23 Guard your heart above all else, for it determines the course of your life.