screened-in porch.
hazy sounds of dogs barking, lawn mowers mowing.
70-degree weather. in November.
stockinged feet curled under me against the chair.
cream-laced coffee.
fumbling attempts to listen to God.
and the gracious gift of confirmation.
that God is next to me, listens to me, and wants to talk back.

saturday

7:55 AM
















2:00 PM





















2:30 PM




















9:00 PM



















11:00 PM

boldness || trust

{ my room }

Home, familiarity, surrounds me as I sit cross-legged on my unmade bed. I can hear the rustling of plastic packaging and the clink of plate hitting counter as my dad gets breakfast downstairs. Beloved and worn books still sit in haphazard stacks on their white bookshelf. My final to-do list before leaving for D.C. is still written on my chalkboard: Call Dr. S... clean bathroom... work on testimony...

Time has stood still in this room.

And yet.

I return to this room, this home, this family, as a different person. And yet not a different person but so very much of the same old me. Merging the new identity with the old never fails to have its bumps and jostles, its angst and fretting. But (I am telling myself) it is also an opportunity -- for growth, and greater closeness, and... more.

How have I changed? What is different?

I am not sure I even know yet. But I think I am learning that living a deeper life of faith asks for increased boldness and greater trust. A boldness that comes out of trust. I have never considered myself a fearful person, but I think I often am. Fearful of not pleasing others. Fearful of appearing stupid or inadequate or broken. Fearful of being alone. Fearful of what life will (or will not) hold. Fearful of not being successful, of not expressing myself well to others, of not being everything for everyone.

And in this fear, I am coming to realize that I lack trust in God. Like those building the Tower of Babel, who tried to make a name for themselves rather than trusting in the name of the Lord, I am trying to construct my own security, trying to protect myself from those things I fear. I am mistrusting God's promises. His promise to delight in me, to work in me and through me for His glory and my good, to grant me peace and joy no matter the circumstances, to be enough for me -- always.

I am learning, too, that God wishes to do amazing things in this world, in our communities, our relationships, and ourselves. Things more amazing and wonderful and astonishing than I have imagined. If I believed this, and if I trusted that God is not only able but desires to display His power, glory, and love, imagine the boldness I would have. Imagine the boldness I should have.

My expectations of God have been far too limited, I believe. I want to live into a place of deeper trust, of more audacious expectation of God's work, of boldness to love and be loved.

God
is
so vastly
wonderful,
so utterly
completely
delightful
that He can,
without anything
other than
Himself,
meet
and overflow
the deepest
demands
of our total nature,
mysterious and
deep
as that nature
is.

(found poem from quote by A.W. Tozer)

It has been over two months since I began the Fellows Program and I have yet to write a word about life as a fellow or what I am learning and thinking about.

There has been so much... newness. A barrage of new people, new places, new experiences, new ideas, new lifestyles, new challenges. I have found it difficult to remove myself from this newness enough to write about it. But I think I am beginning to understand what it is that I am thinking, processing, and learning, so I hope to begin to articulate those thoughts here.

Thus far my experience, in brief, can be described as...

Life-giving

Humbling

Enlarging

I will dedicate a post to each of these words and tease apart their relevance to my experience soon. But for now, I will simply say that I feel so blessed to be here, in this community, and I have no doubt whatsoever that God has called me to this place and is doing wondrous things.