Tag Archives: acceptance

A Pleasantly Surprising New Year

I think this year can be summed up by a few themes for me: forgiveness, reconciliation, and expansion. Throughout the year, I’ve hurt many people many times, and they’ve hurt me. The thing that makes this year different than all the others in which I’ve hurt and been hurt, is my willingness to face forgiveness. I’ve forgiven those who’ve hurt me, and been forgiven by those I’ve hurt. I’ve forgiven myself for my flaws, and accepted that they exist in the strange cocktail of bad and good that make up me.

I’ve learned what comes after forgiveness. Reconciliation. We’ve talked, struggled, and walked together through those offenses and struggles with as much grace as we could. I was able to laugh and cry over bread and wine with people who I thought would be out of my life permanently. The reconciliation has been amazing, and really brings me joy to note the great difference between where we stood a year ago, and where we are now.

I’ve expanded this year. My heart has expanded to let in those who think differently than me. My family has literally expanded – I’ve gained a husband, a niece and a baby sister. My capacity to love is expanding daily, as I learn to put my husband’s needs before my own. My mind has expanded, letting in the possibility that sometimes I’m wrong, sometimes you’re wrong, but mostly, it doesn’t matter.

I’m truly grateful for this year. These three things that have changed so drastically for me are examples of the miracles I think God has worked in my life. I don’t think, when I was writing my resolutions down last year, I could ever resolve to grow the way I have this year. I think I’ve been awaken and pushed and shoved and pulled in ways I couldn’t have planned, or necessarily could have wanted. But I’m grateful. Utterly grateful for how much more open I feel to possibility, to growth, to change, to forgiveness, and acceptance, and love.

As I look forward to 2015, I’m making many resolutions. I’d like to be more creative, write more music, read more of the Bible, blog more, learn how to grow closer and more honest with Eric. I’m making my lists of wishes and goals, but I’m realizing as I look back on 2014, these goals will most likely not be all God has for me. I’m pleasantly surprised with how pleasantly surprising the last year has been, and I hope for more of the same next year. I still have my list of resolutions, but I know God has one for me, too. My only prayer is that I can accept and embrace all that He might have, and know His love for me more fully. I can’t wait to see the ways in which the Kingdom might grow and evolve in my world, and in the lives of those around me.

So, my resolution is not really my own. It is a promise that is continually and constantly being made to me: that God and His Kingdom will continue to be as forgiving, as expanding, as opening, and as surprising as ever. 

Jesus Loves Me, This I Sorta Always Forget

I want to start over. I want to stop, breathe. Be still. And know.
Or stop knowing, actually.
I wish I could burn every Huffington Post article that gets posted to our walls. I wish I could throw out every opinion Buzzfeed list on “24 Reasons Why I’m A Feminist” that prods, urks, annoys, and fires us up. I wish I could scrap all of my own opinions and promise that I’d never have a strong one again.

I wish, above all else, that I had a strong sense that I am loved, am approved of, and accepted. Regardless of my opinions, regardless of where I am right, where I am wrong, that I am totally and completely Beloved.

I wish I could just cry more, and feel the real pain of how it is when my world is upside down. I wish I could accept that I just don’t know all the time, but still, I am so loved. Love is here for me to experience now, no matter how upside down everything else is. I wish I could stop trying to turn everything right-side-up all the time, and just see the sky from this different vantage point, and experience how beautiful and terrifying it is when you can’t tell if you’re swimming up or down. Toward the sky or toward the rocks. It’s still all blue.

What if I could actually know that God loves me? What if that were it?
Could that be the end of justifying, defending, opinionating?

Could that be the end of isolation, fear, and separation?

If I could only know that I was truly loved by He who made me and made everything good, good, good, then would I stop hiding away from those who I don’t feel approve of me? Would I stop fighting so hard in the comment section? Would I stop begging my fellow man to please, just understand me. Love me. Accept me. Approve of me.
Would I be gentler with those who don’t agree?
Would I be closer to those who don’t understand?

Could I understand better that they, too, are loved beyond understanding?

I believe the Good News is that yes, I could and would do all of these things so much better if I could just begin to understand that God loves me, and that’s that.

I’d throw out all of the doctrine I hold out as a shield. I’d climb down off of the hills I’m willing to die on. I’d release myself from the trapeze I’m hanging on, and just experience the great fun in floating in the in-between.

No more anti- this or pro- that. No more, how could you not see it my way?

I’d be left with the truth that is beauty, and pain, and this chaos that is the human existence.

I’d be left with Oneness, and camaraderie, and empathy, and jointness, and the Body. Whole.

Just God. And love. And that’s it.

But instead I build my walls around myself. Unable to believe that anyone, especially not The Perfect One, could possibly accept, understand, and love all of the ugly, wrong, sinful parts of me.

So, I tell myself I’m right. I tell the world I’m right. And I stand in my walled-in isolation of rightness, and let nothing in, nothing out. And when some walk by and start banging the bricks in, they say I should just grow up, rebuild. Build higher, build stronger. Get ahold of yourself and strengthen that which you believe. You shouldn’t be crushed by brick every time someone comes through and tries to knock you over. Grow up.

What if I could grow down? What if I could grow so small that I could fit in the Hands of my Maker? What if He were my defense? What if I could believe that?

Peace. Joy. Purity.

I believe, if my walls were knocked down, if I were shrunk down, the Spirit would come and make His promise true that these are truly His gifts.

Open up your heart. Let down your walls. Let me in.