House on the Rock

What a year it has been! 2019 has been filled with an innumerable amount of blessings and lessons and as I sit here and reflect on the past twelve months, I can honestly say they have been some of my favorites of all time. One of my favorite ways to praise God is to reflect on His faithfulness, so I'm composing a flyover recap of 2019...mostly for my own sake, and yours too if you're bored. January: The year kicked off with a cinematic airport scene of me tossing my bags behind me and running into the arms of Maggie Theaker, my best friend who had been studying abroad in Ireland. We picked our bags right back up and boarded a plane to Belize with sixteen of my other best friends. The month was filled with laughter, deep conversations, sharing books, playing with children, teaching grammar, and exploring God's creation. I graded sentence diagrams and snorkeled, climbed ancient ruins and taught adjectives. God made it clear that I am meant to be a teacher, and this confirma...

It's the week after Christmas and the town is still donned in light-woven garland that rivals the stars. Christmas was different this year - a balmy 60 degrees with sunshine that turned snow piles into puddles and allowed high-strung mothers to send their children to the streets: "Go try out that new bike!" Those of us who have lived in Indiana for any time at all have given up on singing White Christmas and now begrudgingly resign ourselves to the Hallmark channel's fireplace motion picture on Grandma's 42-inch screen - desperate for any hopes of feeling the wintry warmth that comes with a traditional Christmas. my family also ate at Pizza Hut this year, which is unusual but not altogether unsurprising. Dad as a pastor had to emcee two Christmas Eve services and felt that a greasy deep-dish buffet was a more welcoming (or time-effective) feast to celebrate Christ the coming King. We took our family pictures on the 60-degree day clad in denim on denim, a custom I ...

No word from the Lord will ever fail. All his promises will come true. His name can be fully relied upon - we can ask and expect that he'll move. For Israel, it was deliverance. For Elizabeth, it was a son. For Rahab, it was protection and Daniel, an escape from lions. For David, it was forgiveness - restoring the joy of salvation. For Abraham, it was fatherhood of nation upon manifold nation. For Moses, it was an answer. For the blind man, it was his sight. For a world of weary darkness, it's an everlasting light. For God's children, the promise is Jesus - the vine in which we abide. An all-sufficient savior whose death completely satisfied. That promise is sufficient - it's all I'll ever need. I can sing a song like Mary for his promises unto me. That's not the promise of a child, a family, or even a spouse. It's not a promise of a white picket fence surrounding a wooden-framed house. It's not a promise of a high-paying job ...

I cling to my agenda, Lord please answer in my time It's hard for me to remember that thy will be done, not mine. I think I know when things should change, hearts heal, and relationships end but then you make me wait a little which makes me think again. I cling to my agenda but you pry my fingers open you take away the schedule that I love to put my hope in. When prayers are answered right away, it takes very little faith which is why sometimes you let us pray and wait and pray and wait. But as much as I cling to my agenda and think I know what's best, you let all things work out in time so with that, my heart can rest.

Father, when I think of suffering, help me to think of your son. Who was beaten, whipped, and spat upon for sins that he had not done. Most times when I hear the word 'suffering,' I often just think about me because some people said some mean words which I deserved completely! But Jesus was mocked and crucified on a Roman cross, daunting and tall and here's the thing about the suffering of Christ - he didn't deserve it at all.

When tears become a lullaby and my pillow is once again soaked with the cascade of sorrow's abundance, I am held by the arms of a Savior who has felt his own tears fall in rivers. He knows what it feels like to be betrayed by those he once called friend. He surely knows what it is like to toss and turn at night, restlessly working to fill his mind with truth in an effort to drown out the words spoken against him. He has been blistered by uncharacteristic words that suit him like the shoes of a child - painfully unfitting, poking so he walks uneasily. He knows what it like to be hated and blamed and falsely accused, for beguilement to cover him like a heavy blanket and for discouragement to be donned as a crown of many thorns. He has watched the sun rise to welcome the morning to a world that would hate him, and yet he loved them. He has knelt on the rock, brought so low and bent to the point of breaking, only to cry out - Father, forgive them. He has watched as greed pushed his bro...

May I be humble enough to take the knives that are spoken about me and let them carve me into a softer, smoother shape. may i never allow them to pierce beyond repair but always to saw away the sharp edges of myself that could otherwise hurt those who come near me. may my edges be soft so that those who bump by me are never wounded, and may these knives never stay inside me except to bring refinement renewal and a reminder to be softer.

My parents aren't firefighters, but in a way, they kind of are. Time and time again, I've seen their relaxing Saturday nights interrupted by a tear-filled phone call - a marriage falling apart, a sick child, an unsaved family member leaving again - and without hesitation, they are heading out the door and into the flames. I've seen them drop everything to be by someone's side, to walk with them through dark seasons, and to carry them through the crisis at hand. The fire is usually something that starts small - a disagreement, a nagging wife, a lazy husband, a kid who won't obey. But my parents aren't around for the small fires. No one calls 911 when a candle is burning. It's not until the walls start collapsing and the smoke is so thick that they cannot make it through themselves. By the time my parents show up, the fire has engulfed the home and the family inside - in one way or another - is slowly being destroyed. By the time my parents are even called, ...

My beloved student body, When we got to Taylor University as freshmen, we were blessed to experience a powerful feet-washing ceremony. Surrounded by thirty of our closest friends and the ambient hum of worship music, we were prayed over, serenaded by songs of joy, and tightly hugged with cheerful thanksgiving. At the end of the ceremony, teary-eyed upperclassmen knelt to wash our feet. I remember being a bit uncomfortable as I watched four beautiful upperclass girls bend down and gently take hold of my ankles. My feet were stained with dirt from running around the lake, and years of being an athlete left me with blisters and bruises around my toes. However, as they dipped my feet into the water and wrapped a towel around them to clean them, I was suddenly unaware of the flaws in my feet. Those flaws didn't matter to the servants who were willing to wash me, regardless of my messiness. It's the exact same story that happens in John 13 when Jesus kneels to wash his disciple...

To the one whose existence stretches beyond time, could it be that your wisdom reaches beyond mine? To the one who brought the earth to life with just his voice - could it be that you already know the outcome of this choice? All-surpassing wisdom and knowledge you possess so why do I allow all my unknowns to cause me stress? Surely since you know all things, you know about this too. So father, guide me. Lead me please - I don't know what to do.