Responses · Testimonies

“Jesus Loves You More Than a Man Ever Could” – On Guilt & Falling in Love

I was listening to a love song. A person came to mind (or maybe to heart) when I heard it. And I immediately felt guilty.

back at the pianoI grew up in a culture that told teenagers their romantic feelings and desires were something they needed to get rid of. And if they couldn’t shake those feelings and desires no matter how hard they tried, they had to direct them toward Jesus instead.

“Jesus loves you more than a man ever could,” I was told innumerable times. And when I’d have a crush and it just wouldn’t go away, I would reprimand myself for not letting Jesus be enough for me. I loved Him so deeply. But I didn’t have confidence that He was satisfied with me; I believed He was demanding I love Him more and love Him differently. I didn’t believe my genuine love was enough for Him.

When I was told Jesus loved me more than another person could, the application was always: “So you better give Him credit for that.”

Back in October, when I heard that love song, I felt guilty. Because I wanted to sing it about a person, and what’s left of teenage Tessa immediately pointed an accusing finger and told me I couldn’t. I had to sing it to Jesus, or I shouldn’t be singing it.

But then I heard the whisper:

“What if I sang it to you?”

A bit of all of it happened. And He healed something in me that day.

Jesus loves me. More than anyone else ever could. But instead of the response to that truth being guilt, He wants something different.

When He sang that love song to me, He wasn’t shaming me for any lack on my part (and He certainly wasn’t angry at me for having feelings toward a person). He helped me understand by using a song I could relate to: the way I felt for that person? It resembled how He felt about me. And the response He wanted– the response it naturally elicited from me– was not guilt or forced praise.

It was awe.

I had so much in me for that person; it swept me up just to be in possession of it. They didn’t have to do anything to maintain it. It was something living in me, for them. I loved them because of who they were, not because of anything they felt (or, more accurately, didn’t feel) toward me. It was overwhelming in a beautiful way. And finally it was beginning to connect– God goes through that concerning me?

I am a wildly imperfect person, yet I am able to love in measures like these. Why have I believed that God who is Love… would do less?

It would take more time for me to unpack these things. I’m still in the process; He’s still teaching me how to let Him love me. But I wrote in my journal that night, after the song ended:

“Maybe the whole reason we fall in love is so that we can grasp Him better.”


On Media & Art · Practical · Testimonies · The Basics

How I’m Replacing My Anxiety: On Power, Positivity, & Choices

dsc05066When I picked up a dingy little book at a yard sale for a few cents, it was simply because the title seemed interesting to me: “Feel The Fear and Do It Anyway.”

I was struggling with questions about anxiety and how big a role it played in my life, so much so that it was nearly all I could think about every day. I knew nothing about this book, but I’d reached a point where I was willing to hear out anyone who might be able help me figure out what I could do about what I was facing.

During the time I read the book, not only did I receive deep convictions from its words, but I also had an open conversation with a counselor friend of mine about anxiety and its presence in me. These things paired together, following God’s revelation to me about the peace He’s made for me to walk in, have helped me find a grip on my peace and led me in the process of beating my fear.

If you struggle with anxiety, I want to share what I took away from “Feel The Fear and Do It Anyway” by Dr. Susan Jeffers with you. I know every experience is a bit different and not everything works the same in everyone. If these things end up not doing for you what they do for me, nothing is wrong with you; you are working hard and doing an incredible job, finding the best weapons and strategies for your own battle. Do not let shame lie to you, and do not give up. This is just my experience, and if you end up being able to share in it, it would be cruel of me to keep what I’ve learned from you.

Not everything I learned from the book is completely related to anxiety, but all of it has been transformative for me. These were my four main takeaways:

1) Fear is based on the lie, “I can’t handle it.”

When I become obsessive and fearful about something in my life, no matter how big or small, there is one common belief that fuels the anxiety: I believe that if the bad thing I’m anticipating happens, it will be too much for me and will overcome me. Usually I am not even aware that I believe this, but the presence of the fear reveals it about me.

A few months ago, I was overwhelmingly anxious about visiting my old stomping grounds. I didn’t want it to be a painful experience, and I’d had panic attacks the last few times I’d been there. But I asked myself: what would happen if my fears were true, and it was painful and I did have a panic attack? I’d have a few difficult hours in my day– and then I’d go home. It might take me a few days to recover, but I’d recover. Was that devastating enough to keep me away? Despite the anxiety I still hosted, I decided to go– and it ended up bringing a lot of healing for the bitterness I’d been hosting toward that place. I did have a panic attack, but afterward I had a lot of good moments, too. I’m glad I didn’t let fear keep me from them.

Two years ago, I was terrified to drop out of college, because I didn’t want to be occupation-less, lose relationships, or be looked down upon for it. But what happened when I did drop out… and I did become occupation-less, lose relationships, and get looked down upon? I cried. I was hurt. I grieved. I wrestled with armfuls of questions, for months. Then I made my peace with it, and realized I was healthier emotionally than I’d ever been before. I became grateful for the opportunity to live a life more true to what I was made for. My fears might have become reality, but it didn’t ruin me; in the long run, it healed me. I survived it and found treasure along the way. I needed things to happen the way they did.

When I accept my fears at face value, they seem giant and domineering. But when I look deep enough into them, I can see how small they are against the backdrop of everything else life holds. I can see that no matter what happens, positive or negative, it won’t be the end of me. I have experienced deeply painful, terribly oppressive times, lasting moments and lasting years– and I am still here. I’m actually the happiest I’ve ever been. What we’re scared of does happen sometimes. But we survive. We learn and we keep walking. Nothing is final or too much for us.

Nothing can come for us that is bigger than He who is for us.

2) We can hold fear from two positions: pain, or power.

How you view your circumstances is known as your locus of control, and there are two possible versions of it: an external one or an internal one. If your locus of control is external, it means that you believe life happens to you and there’s nothing you can do to alter your circumstances. However, if your locus of control is internal, it means that you believe you have the power to use what you have in your given circumstances to create the life you want.

I refused to consider this concept when I first learned about it. My locus of control was completely external; I believed I was stuck where I was in life, which was a terribly harrowing belief to have, because it was eating me alive to stay in my circumstances. When I was told I could change my situation if I wanted to, I immediately shut the idea out, because I didn’t believe I was capable of doing that. But multiple people from multiple areas of my life all began unknowingly asking me the same thing: “Have you ever thought about doing something else?”

And my answer, when I finally gave one, was: “…no. Is that possible?”

Once I opened myself up to the idea of making my own changes, once I realized I had power over myself– God showed me how to use it. He didn’t leave me floundering by myself, nor did He become angry at me like I feared. It turned out that He was the one who made me powerful in the first place. Using that power was not, in fact, a rebellion against Him, but rather a submission to Him and His design for me.

It took months for me to say yes to my new direction, and even longer to tell anyone about it and begin acting on it. But I did. I started making changes. I left old things and started pursuing new ones. It was still hard, but a different kind of hard than before; this was the kind I knew was going to birth good things.

I’m not stuck anymore. I know that, at any time, if what I’m doing is not good for me, I can change it and do something else. I have the power to do that.

When we’re in any situation, we are making a choice to stay there. We can choose not to stay there anymore if we want to. I used to constantly say, “I can’t do that because this thing is preventing me.” But the truth is that there is truly nothing I can’t do.

If I wanted to move to Los Angeles today, I could. I don’t have money, transportation, or a place to stay, but I could pack a suitcase and get on a bus, and once I arrived I could find a shelter somewhere. Would it be the wisest thing for me to do? Probably not. So I choose not to do it. But I don’t get to say that I can’t do it.

If I want something badly enough, I have ability to go get it. It is just that sometimes the payoffs of not doing it at this point in time might outweigh having it right now. That’s okay! It teaches me patience and trust. Life is largely about the process; waiting times are not times we have to despise or rush to escape. Sometimes it’s the right time to make a change; other times, it’s the right time to wait it out for a while. But we are never stuck. Once we understand that, we are living from a much more productive and positive place.

I think a lot of us grew up viewing power and control as negative things. I have known and been affected by controlling people my entire life, so I know it’s easy to have those negative connotations. But do you know why controlling, manipulative people do what they do? They feel powerless. The reason they are seeking to control you is that they see power in you and want to benefit from it; they don’t believe they can do what they want to do themselves, so they use other people. Controlling people have an external locus of control.

A healthy sense of power is so different from that. When you believe you are powerful, you believe in your ability to do what you want to do, not to make someone else do it. A truly powerful person is someone who knows they are in control of their own actions and attitudes, and exercises that control in order to make good choices and love well.

Self-control is a fruit of the Spirit; it’s something He gives us and wants to see in our lives. It is not simply the ability to keep yourself from bad choices, like we seem to teach all the time– it’s also using your power to make really good ones. When you use your power well, you are demonstrating spiritual growth.

This all affects our relationships with fear and anxiety because if you believe in your power, you will start using it. With an internal locus of control, you know that your circumstances don’t control you– you control you. Whatever fear is living in you, you know you are bigger than it and that you can combat it. You do not allow yourself to become a victim of anxiety, but rather a master over it. You might have anxiety, but it is you that owns it, not the other way around.

When I am afraid, I have a choice. I can choose to succumb to it and let it lead me, or I can choose to ride the wave out and get through it. Fear still exists for me, but it doesn’t have to win out over me.

It’s a cliché now, but it’s still true: when you learn you are powerful, you begin to realize you also carry responsibility. You realize you can’t blame others for your happiness (or lack thereof) anymore, because you are in control of your experience. No one can be responsible for your quality of life except for you.

There’s an important distinction between your experiences in life and your experiences of life. Things happen to us that we had no hand in. We don’t get to choose where we grew up, or what programs accept us, or who falls in love with us. But we do get to choose how we let those things affect us. Bitterness? Despondency? Entitlement? Those are responses. And while we may not be able to choose our initial feelings and it’s important for us to recognize them, we one hundred percent control what we decide to feed and sit in versus what we decide to let go of and move past. We have control over how we choose to live; we have the power to look at everything through a hopeful lens instead of a victimized one.

I have found that when I take responsibility for my feelings and my mindset along with my behavior, it is easier for me to be kind to others and to love my enemies. I can’t get mad at someone for not giving me something I have the ability to give myself. It doesn’t mean I’m condoning their negative behavior; it just means I’m not letting it change my positive behavior.

3) Being positive is not being in denial, it’s being perceptive.

Many of us have been told that when we look for the positive, we are not aware of the reality of the situation and are being oblivious to what’s going on. But let’s take a minute to think about this: what makes it so that a positive mindset is less realistic than a negative one? Both are perspectives, ways of viewing reality. And the way you view reality determines how you treat it. So if we choose a negative mindset in the name of being realistic, what we are really doing is determining to have a negative reality.

Choosing a positive mindset is not being unrealistic– it is choosing to have the best experience possible in reality. When we view life through a positive lens, we don’t need denial, because we can see possibilities for ways to make things better, and we are more likely to act on those possibilities because we believe they can make a difference.

Positivity is not weak, it is empowering.

It can be wildly hard to get rid of a negative mindset when you’ve been hosting one your whole life, or when you are in environments that are full of the kind of talk that fuels one. Perseverance matters so much in this. Our subconscious’  believe what they are told; if they are fed insecurities, lies, and thoughts of helplessness, and they aren’t also being fed a greater measure of affirmations, truths, and motivation, they will continue to operate out of destructive patterns.

We have to out-talk our negativity. When you feel insecure, name strengths and good traits you possess and point out to yourself how you’re doing a good job; when someone tells you something that is against your God-given identity, reaffirm your identity and what it means for you; when you start to feel helpless, tell yourself that you are powerful and remind yourself of all your options. Be kind to yourself. Be active and relentless about it, and have people in your life who echo these kinds of healing words to you. Let love, not fear, have the final word in you.

4) When it comes to making decisions, there is no loss, only gain.

I am the queen of indecisiveness. If there are multiple options, I pretty much go into paralysis until it’s narrowed down to two, at which point I will toss the two options every possible way they can be turned, then make a very hesitant choice. I will proceed to doubt my choice for weeks. What a fun cycle, eh?

But making decisions is actually a lot less complicated and dire than I’ve believed it to be. No matter which option I choose, the truth is that there is not a losing decision. On any path I walk, there is a wealth of lessons, experiences, and treasures for me to find. I think often we fear making a bad choice because we don’t want to miss out on something good. But what if we had a different perspective when making a decision? What if we focused on what the different options have to give instead of what we’d potentially lose? When we do that, we are no longer looking for the least costly option, but instead for the most rewarding one. It is much more productive to function this way.

And if you end up being unsatisfied with your decision? You can still make a different one! It is okay to make mistakes. No matter how many zigzags you make on your path, you’ll still be able to get to where you’re going. We gain lessons and experiences from everything we go through. God’s business is redemption; nothing is wasted. And He knows what you’re going to choose before you choose it, so you can rest in knowing it’s all part of something bigger, something that will always work out for your good.


Phew! There is so much to unpack in these concepts, so much we can reap from them. I encourage you to keep ruminating on them. And, if you’d like, I so recommend reading “Feel The Fear and Do It Anyway.” The last two chapters are a bit out there and I admit I only skimmed them because they were more opinion-based, but the rest of the book was such a transformative tool in my life.

Anxiety doesn’t own me anymore. I am better equipped to face it than I knew I could be. All of this is my story; I’m not going to present it as the cure or the never-failing balm for anxiety. But I wanted to share my experience and the tools I’ve found useful, if there’s any chance you might be helped by it, too. I am rooting for you and fully believe in a breakthrough for you, however in comes into your life. Thank you for being interested in how in came into mine.

Responses · Testimonies

What My Old Lyrics Taught Me: On Authenticity, Shame, & Growing Up in Church

Music is my home, something I was made to live in. But I’ve faced rejection, limitations, discouragement, and over time I allowed those things to bury my passion. It still lived, but I wouldn’t listen to its outcry for my attention; I pretended it was small and didn’t matter too much to me. But it always did.

About a month ago, I began listening to an artist whose music was more genuine, passionate, and soul-meeting than I’d experienced in such a long time. I’d forgotten that music could be a vessel for such powerful things. It blew on the flames inside me; my passion was no longer trapped in muffled cries, and instead it roared at me until I would look it in the face once more. I then wrote and played and sang like I’d been released from a cell and given permission to love my calling again. Somehow, I had fallen into the trap of viewing my purpose as a burden I must bear, instead of a gift I get to treasure.piano werkin

Now I’ve moved into a difficult place of not being able to do everything I would like to do in my music. My resources and abilities are so very limited right now. I’ve responded to this situation in various ways already, many of them painful and unhealthy. But there’s one way that’s been bringing a lot of closure and healing to me: I’ve been reading through notebooks of my old lyrics. And I’ve been discovering some big things in the process.

1) I can do it.

I began writing my own music when I was eleven. Which means, yes, there are some absolutely terrible, cringey pieces that embarrass me just by existing. But there are a lot more potential-carrying verses than I thought there would be. For a young girl with no one helping her, I could write. I expressed myself well. Based on the kind of music I listened to at the time, I wasn’t too far off from what I wanted to be making. I see an anointing in the girl who wrote those songs. I’m trying to remind myself that she’s me, and that anointings don’t go away. Despite what I often believe, I am capable of being a music-maker.


2) Shame has been a giant presence and loud voice in my life. 

For a large portion of my life, I never felt I was doing enough, was pure enough, or was passionate enough about the Lord. My music from those times expressed that shame; I didn’t intend to express shame in my verses, but, unbeknownst to me, it wove itself into each one.

Discovering this in my old music unearthed some anger in me toward the Christian youth culture I grew up in. I love the people that led me in youth group, and I’m not bitter toward them; I know we’re all just doing our best, and I still carry many good things they did for me. But the things unintentionally ingrained in me? To be honest, they’re still infuriating sometimes.

I was taught that my friends’ salvations were dependent upon my boldness; that I had to be on fire, with a wildly passionate missional lifestyle, for my faith to be valid; that I had to perform well for the Lord, or else He would be disappointed in me. All of these things were said outright at some point in my experience, but they permeated teachings I received all the time. And it all said the same thing to my soul– “You are not good enough for God to love you the way you are.”

I didn’t know that humans cannot save others humans; that my only job has always been to love everyone. I didn’t know that feelings sometimes need to be told the truth; that burning passion is not necessary for whole-hearted work, and sometimes we do what we don’t want to do because we know it’s right and good. I didn’t know that God wanted me, as I was, no matter how well I was or wasn’t doing.

Why didn’t any youth ministry make it a point to teach me that?

Why did they lead with the need to evangelize, when I didn’t know the fullness of the gospel in my own soul first? Why didn’t they teach me about my belovedness, about who I was? Why didn’t they recognize that I didn’t need solutions as much as I needed people to walk with me through my dark places?

[This isn’t completely related, and I’ve considered cutting it out of this post countless times, but I think it’s important to put it out in the open: no one in my church was able to recognize depression in me, during the more than two years I lived in it. Whenever I tried to vocalize anything about what was happening inside me, I just ended up being confused by the faith-isms they gave me with sympathetic expressions on their faces. I became convinced that it was my fault I was suffering. A leader once approached me and asked me to help another student who expressed numb sadness like I had once done, because it was assumed I’d found a way through it; the leader didn’t know what to do when I replied I was still in it and had no solution to give them.]

I’m a little angry, yes. But anger is a secondary emotion; mostly, I am sad. I’m sad because we’re so unpracticed in dealing with rawness and the incomplete things in our own souls and the souls of others, when it is something so vital to being a healthy person. And I’m sad because younger Tessa was given one-size-fits-all advice and pats on the head, instead of something real.


3) Music was always my taste of what was real.

I expressed things I didn’t even understand or recognize in my life, but somehow knew when I began writing my verses. I could say what I most genuinely meant there. I could discover what I meant there. And I could find healing in the process. No other place was like that.

It’s still true for me. He always meets me intimately in my music. It’s still the place I find the most safety and comfort and hope.

NF has this line in his song appropriately entitled “Real:” “You gave me music as medicine.” I feel that so deeply.


4) Because shame wouldn’t let me have compassion on myself, I didn’t know how to give it to others.

I treated so many of my friends as projects in my mind; I expected perfection from them. If they “failed” in some way, I saw it as my fault. These are lies that grew from what I believed about my own unworthiness, and the perfection I demanded from myself. It was surprising to see just how many songs I’d written about people I knew who were “lost,” and how firm I was in my judgements of them. For a while, it was pretty much all I wrote about.

I wish I could go back to every person I’ve ever condemned (some verbally, I’m sorry to say). I wish I could tell them that they are holy, one hundred percent holy, because it was His gift to them. I wish I could tell them He already fully loves and welcomes them, as they are. And I wish I could tell them that I have my own vices… that I am not better than them in any way, never have been and never will be.

I was so wrong. I know I was a different person back then, that I can’t be angry at younger Tessa because she was doing the best she could. But I wouldn’t blame anyone else if they chose not to forgive me. I am so sorry for the damage I might have caused in people I just wanted to love.

Hurting people hurt people. I didn’t know I could be such a clear example of this, but I know it now. And wow am I grateful that He’s teaching me how to be kind, to myself and to others.


5) I was genuinely, madly in love with Jesus.

One of the greatest things I felt shame about was my relationship with Him. I lived daily life with a sharp ache inside because I didn’t think I was loving Him well, or that I was worthy to be with Him. It is so wild to read my old verses now and see that I’d dedicated songs to Him, writing His name at the bottom of each page, with a heart drawn next to it in complete sincerity.

The love I had for Him seeps through every word I penned. I was enamored. I loved Him with the deepest passion I’ve ever known. I hope I’ve only in grown in that, but it was wildly evident in me when I was a teenager; I wouldn’t shut up about Him.

Despite how she felt, teenage Tessa was in such a good place with Jesus. Yes, she had flaws and made mistakes; she still does as a grown up. But she didn’t need to fear a lack of love for Him inside her. She was dripping of it.

And she didn’t need to fear a lack of love for her inside Him, either.

I know these thoughts are messy. But I’m sharing them because I’m learning messy is okay because it’s what’s real. We don’t need to struggle make our words relatable to everyone; we just need to come from a place of vulnerable, awkward, scary authenticity. After all, people can only relate to things that are actually real. Some of the most life-speaking songs in my life have been ones that were unique and probably not relatable for everyone. They sat with me in my mess and my darkness; they told me I wasn’t the only one, and that it was okay to be unkempt inside… showed me there’s beauty in unknown, deep waters because that’s where the answers are hiding, ready to be sought out.

Reading my old verses has further convinced me just how important it is that I keep writing new ones, keep recording what’s in me, keep being fully real. I needed it. I still do.

And there are others who need what I find just as much as I do.

Testimonies · The Basics

On The Lifestyle of Forgiveness

flower walk, pear treeA random, harmless little event caused me to run somewhere I could be alone and shake with tears. I didn’t understand why.

I began writing to my counselor-friend about what happened, asking her questions the same time I asked them of myself. By the time I hit send on that e-mail, I understood why that small moment broke me apart: I had been wounded by similar means as a child. I’d blocked it out, but I remembered now. And it felt like large hands were squeezing life from my heart.

She e-mailed back, said I was on the right track. She also suggested that a good next step would be to list “what the locusts had eaten” so I could recognize the restoration– and that I should write a forgiveness letter and burn it. I wrote the list almost immediately, but the letter… I told myself I’d write it soon. “Soon” became over a month and a half later.

I didn’t even plan on writing it when I did. But a song came on that day, one that made tears spill out when I tried to sing along. It made me think of the person who hurt me. I began to write, teardrops splashing on the page. And when I was done… I loved.

Before I wrote the letter, I knew I might not feel my forgiveness toward them, that forgiveness was a choice instead of a feeling, so I’d resolved to be okay with however I felt. I didn’t think I’d feel the forgiveness. But I did. I did feel it. And it had wings.

I loved what the letter had done for me, and when I remembered I was supposed to burn it, I didn’t want to. But two days later, when I tried to read it again… something in me just couldn’t. The forgiveness was completed, it was all done. So I burned the letter. It crumbled slowly and blew away to nothing.

It was finished.

Jesus uttered the words, “It is finished” when He died for the forgiveness of humanity. After forgiving someone who might never be different, but whom I choose to love still… it started to mean something more to me. He wasn’t just saying, “There, you’re forgiven, I did what I had to do.” When Jesus said it was finished, He was saying, “We don’t have revisit it. I forgave you. It’s done. I just love you.”

Two months later, when the same person hurt me in the same way as before, I had to forgive them again.

And I didn’t want to.

I’d forgiven them for the past, for the thing that I thought was over. But could I forgive them for something they were still doing? Something they might never stop doing? I felt anger envelop me like a heavy cloak, because I knew I didn’t deserve what they did.

But the bitterness was eating me up inside. No matter what they did to me, I still loved them in my depths. I was hurting every single day, but I didn’t realize it wasn’t entirely because I was unjustly treated… it was mostly because I didn’t want to be bitter at someone I loved.

It took time to make the choice to forgive a second time. But when I finally did, it was like I had been given permission walk again. I hadn’t been aware of how confined and constrained the bitterness had made me. This time, I didn’t feel forgiving. But I possessed love. So I forgave anyway.

I didn’t forgive them because they deserved it; I forgave them because I didn’t deserve it, either.

I didn’t deserve to be treated that way. But I also didn’t deserve to let my bitterness eat me from the inside because of it. I forgave them because of love, but I also forgave them to begin the healing process for myself.

My Father forgave me when I didn’t deserve it. No one here gets what they deserve– we all get grace. That is how my Father’s family does things. And I love this a whole lot better than the way others have been doing things.

I am learning this person has influenced me in so many ways, over such a length of time, that forgiveness is something that must be a daily practice for me. I often find myself using a flawed thought process they taught me, or believing a lie they unknowingly told me, or maneuvering an obstacle they placed in front of me. And when that happens, I stop everything for a moment and make a strong-willed statement inside myself: “I forgive you for ______.” I name it. I forgive them for it. And I begin walking forward, away from it. Every day, I do this. And when the anger begins to bubble up, making a specific statement of forgiveness changes me.

It reminds me we’re all just doing the best we can. And there’s grace for all of us.


Life-Moving Messages {Part One}

Over the course of the year, I’ve heard a few sets of messages that moved me deep in my core and spurred large-scale change in my heart and life. All were shared at my school, during the two-day conferences we had each semester. We would cancel all classes for those two days to invest in our spiritual growth, and it helped me not only stay sane during the school year, but transform my life indefinitely. I would definitely like to share my notes from those messages with you. They won’t be as well-organized or cohesive as the messages themselves, as they’re simply the things I wrote down as I listened and processed, but there are some incredible truths within these. I hope you hear something from them that you needed.

This first set was shared by Pastor Alex Michel on the first day of the fall semester conference. His emphasis was emotional health and spiritual healing.

Message One

  • Jesus came to deliver us from sin, not distract us from it.
  • John 16:12-15
  • The process is worth going through if freedom is at the end.
  • John 8:31-32, 2 Cor. 5:17 DSC07435
  • Jesus didn’t die for “mostly free.”
  • Eph. 4:22-24
  • You’re trying to change your behavior without renewing your mind.
  • Old mind = feels right; renewed mind = prioritizes what is right despite feelings.
  • To get a renewed mind:
    • scripture and prayer
    • dealing with harmful thought patterns
  • Hurt leads to “No way will this happen to me again,” leads to corrupted thought patterns, leads to corrupt actions.
  • Sometimes depression, anger, etc., are like a winter coat. But seasons change, and we often forget to take it off.
  • John 5:19
  • “I didn’t ask you to save the world; my Son already did.”
  • When it’s time to take off the winter coat:
    • Admit you’re wearing it.
    • Articulate why you put it on.
    • Accept responsibility for wearing it this long.
    • Advance into the new season.
  • When you live in reality, sometimes it’s depressing.
  • If there’s a vow in your life, something you swear you’ll never do, hurt probably exists under it.

Message Two

  • Emotional health is real and His idea. God has emotions.
  • Emotions = insides being released.
  • We’re not good at having good and bad at the same time. But it’s a continuum; Your heart is beautiful and it also hosts conflict. And that’s okay.
  • Exodus 20:5-6
  • You never know what He’s trying to protect you from.
  • Putting energy in faking it leaves no time for actually making it.
  • The body of Christ is a spiritual family. The family you grew up in does not have to discourage you.
  • You are born in it, you can’t choose to not get on. But you can get off.
  • New fruit only comes from new roots.
  • You can’t deal with something unless it comes to the surface.
  • Surgery is painful, but heals.
  • Do you drive looking your rearview mirror the whole time? No! But you do need a rearview mirror.
  • Phil. 3:13-14, 1 John 3:13-14

Message Three

  • Growth is the goal, not perfection.
  • We should celebrate growth, God does.
  • Equation: grace + truth, over time = growth
  • John 1:14, Luke 13:6-9
  • If it’s not producing fruit when it should, don’t cut it down; look at the roots and tend.
  • Grace = the foundation upon which all healing of the human spirit exists.
  • You can’t do anything until you acknowledge that there is a problem.
  • AA has it right– celebrate sobriety even if it’s only existed for one day. No condemnation. This is Jesus’ model.
  • Truth gives us direction, clearly defines what will help and what will hurt.
  • 2 Timothy 3:16-17
  • Healing is a process, not a light switch.
  • Chains are broken in a moment; learning to live like a free person is a journey.
  • Phil.1:6
  • We are to model grace– to ourselves, too.
  • Anesthesia = grace, scalpel = truth. You need both. And recovery takes a little while. Be available to these things.
  • You need Him, and you can’t go alone.
On Media & Art

The “Inside Out” Book Tag {Blog Edition}

I found this video recently and was immediately inspired by it.

While I’m definitely not an in-front-of-the-camera person (believe me, I’ve tried), I like the idea of recognizing books through the lens of the main feeling they evoked in me. I’ve always been a bookworm and I’m such an empath, so this was essentially made for me; I’m simply writing about it instead of talking to a camera about it. Each question covers the five basic emotions/characters of the movie: Joy, Disgust, Fear, Sadness, and Anger. Let’s do this!

the_secret_gardenWhich book brings you the most joy? The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I wanted to think long and hard about my answer to this, but I think this gut answer might be correct. The first time I ever declared a book as my favorite, it was The Secret Garden. It was the first book intently looked up in the library after reading a short portion from it in school, the first book in which I felt deep kinship with the characters, the first book that brought me a fictional crush, the first book that just felt like home when I read it. I have re-read it multiple times, and I only love it more. I think of it with such affection.

MockingjayWhich book grossed you out the most? Mockingjay (The Hunger Games, Book 3) by Suzanne Collins. First of all: I love this book. The Hunger Games is a series that moves me and affects me deeply, and it holds a special place for me. But, although I would argue there’s purpose in it, I will not pretend that there isn’t graphic violence throughout. In this book, she thinks about her scar various times (which wasn’t weird to me until I started writing this…), and for some reason it always made me shudder to remember how she got it. There are a lot more gory situations in the book, as well, and seeing as a major plot point revolves around creative deaths, it can be detailed. I love the book, but when I re-read it I’m going to have to brace myself.

9780590407557The book that scared you more than anything? Ghosts Beneath Our Feet by Betty Ren Wright. I know this is a really stupid answer, but it’s completely true: this super short teen paperback from the nineties is the book that has enduringly terrified me. I found it at a book sale for maybe a quarter when I was in elementary school, and I thought that because I’d read some Baby-sitters Club mysteries (hahahaha), I would enjoy this, too. Wrong. So wrong. For years, I was terrified that knackers were going to burn my house to the ground from underneath. The only reason I can come up with to explain the lasting impression this book made on me is that this is the first book I read set in our world in which the ghosts ended up being real. [Spoiler? You weren’t really going to read it, were you, though?]

Choosing-to-SeeWhich book made you cry the hardest? Choosing to SEE by Mary Beth Chapman (with Ellen Vaughn). I’ve written a review of it before, but this book is just beautiful. It’s a look at depression, joy, grief, pain, questions, and hope, and how they can all somehow exist together. I love it. But when I read the chapter that retells the accident… it was one of the most empathetic moments I’ve had. I saw everything that was happening with my mind, and it was just too much. I had to put the book down twice to allow myself to sob, only to pick it up again and cry with a bit more composure as I continued to read. I wasn’t even truly there, but I ached enough to know that no one should have to live through what the Chapmans so courageously did.

0802436935Runner up: The Final Kingdom (The Seven Sleepers Series, Book 10) by Gilbert Morris. I have no explanation for this. All I know is that when I finished this series in middle school, I was actually depressed for two straight weeks. I didn’t cry, but I’d say finishing this book was one of my most sadness-laced book experiences.

Redeeming loveWhich book completely ticked you off? Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers. I understand that this book has changed countless lives, and I know quite a few people that are included in that group. But I just couldn’t like it. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. The sex scenes were just too much; in my opinion they were unnecessary, even distracting. I didn’t even like the main male character (who was supposed to represent Hosea/God, so oops?). The story had so much potential, but elements within the story forced me to be adverse to the book and kept me from being touched by it. [This review on Goodreads (and a few comments on it) expresses my thoughts well.]

1400071992Runner up: Painted Dresses by Patricia Hickman. It’s been years since I read this book so I don’t completely remember the details of it, but I do remember how much it angered me. The immoral actions of the main characters were never really addressed, and as a teenager reading it I wasn’t given even a cautionary tale; I simply got to read in detail things that the “heroines” did and see that there weren’t really any consequences they faced aside from being completely unlikable people. There were a few deeply powerful moments in the story, but I mostly just remember how gross the characters made me feel.

I would love to hear more people answer these questions and share about the books that brought them such strong emotions. If you end up doing it, let me know! And thank you again to Kristina Horner for the great idea.


Thoughts from Yellowstone

My grandparents had planned a trip to Yellowstone National Park, and they decided that they would love to take us along with them if they could. Only a few weeks after I heard about it, I was in a car on the way to Yellowstone. It was a beautiful place with beautiful stops along the way, and I got to witness it with my grandparents, my mom, my cousin, and two of my aunts and uncles. You can take a look if you’d like!

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Yes, Yellowstone and the other places we visited on the journey were the reason I went on this trip. And those places were beautiful, and “kind” is an adjective I somehow want to give to them, too. But when I got back home, I realized the thing that would stick with me most wasn’t going to be the trip itself– it was going to be all the thinking I got to do.

I hadn’t realized that I wasn’t being as thoughtful or analytical as I once was. I’m a deeply introspective person; most of my testimony, most of my life, has been internal and thoroughly thought out. But when I entered college a few years ago, I started absorbing so much information, and having so many heart changes, and growing in so many areas, that maybe I didn’t have enough time to just… think. To consider daily what was happening in my life. It took a few 10-hour drives on the way to and from Yellowstone to begin learning how to simply think again, but the muscle memory has started kicking in, and I am grateful. Would it be okay if I shared two of the things I was able to process in Yellowstone with you?

This first one is pretty personal, but I haven’t heard anyone really mention this concept to me, so I’m mentioning it. After hours of thinking through my friendship with a man I had feelings for, I came to the conclusion that we were not meant to have a romantic relationship. And oddly, I became grateful that we didn’t have one, and that he didn’t have the same feelings for me. I imagined what our married relationship would look like, and as I watched those daydreams, I saw that our marriage would be cute. He would be a beautifully sweet husband and would take care of me the best he possibly could. But… something would be lacking. I couldn’t see the logical reason why it didn’t work, but I saw that it didn’t work. I saw that we were simply meant for more. That doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have a good relationship; it simply means that marriage would have more potential for us that we wouldn’t be able to tap into, because we just don’t belong together. It was hard to process, but… I’m so glad I know that. And I’m so glad I get to share in a sweet friendship with him still.

Sometimes things don’t work because of a pin-pointable reason or list of reasons. But sometimes, things don’t work simply because something else works better. Jesus has been teaching me that in a few areas lately. He doesn’t say no– He says, “This is better.” He doesn’t take good things from us; He replaces them with something greater. That’s how deeply He loves us.

One more thing I was able to think through in Yellowstone was the concept of daydreaming. I’ve never been able to daydream without feeling convicted, and it has only been a year or two since I understood the reason for that was my daydreams always took me places I shouldn’t have gone in my brain. I’m not saying it’s wrong for you to daydream; I’d say listen to your conviction and seek His guidance on that. I just know that, for me, it is destructive and something He wishes for me not to do. As you read above, however, He led me to daydream in order for me to come to a conclusion about my beloved friend. I think He knew what I needed, and I trust Him with that.

I found myself tempted to continue daydreaming after I processed those thoughts, for sure. But whenever I felt myself slipping, I would somehow remember what Donald Miller wrote in Blue Like Jazz:

“When a person has no other persons he invents them because he was not designed to be alone, because it isn’t good for a person to be alone.”

–and I would instead invest in the people around me.

Feeling alone is one of the more difficult feelings we experience, and I’ve always gone to daydreaming as a coping mechanism. Now I know that when I find myself wanting to spend time with imaginary people, it means I’ve started feeling isolated and need to talk to someone I love, to a real person. So many of our battles happen in loneliness. If we’re alone and fighting temptation, we must reach out to someone, even if our inner critics tell us we’d be annoying them. Our spiritual health is worth it. And once we do it, we will be reminded that we aren’t alone. We are not at all alone.

“Every day, I write a poem titled ‘Tomorrow.’ It is a handwritten list of the people I know that love me. And I make sure to put my own name at the top.”    -Kevin Kantor

Thank you for listening to my little introspective thoughts. I’m glad I’m having them regularly again. And I pray you find somewhere, sometime for a little quiet in your soul, too.