The Beauty of Being

Whenever I go to the mountains, I feel as if  I need to have some sort of "experience" with the beauty of creation. Everyone always talks about these "experiences" they have with the smells, sights, and sounds of God's creation. Inevitably, upon returning from the mountains, people ask, "Wasn't it just so refreshing? Didn't just just see God everywhere?"

Well, yes, but . .  huh? Did I miss something? Was I supposed to feel more?

So, every time I go, I feel this compulsion to "drink in" (as people always do) this beauty -- to force some sort of spiritual experience.

But I've at last grown weary of the compulsion, and during my most recent foray into the mountains, I just didn't want to play that game anymore. I wanted to allow Him to float by me -- to surprise me -- if He so desired. And if not, then I would  thank Him for the beauty, allow the sound of rushing water to sooth my dry spirit, smell the pine, and go home.

And so it happened, as I was tripping along my non-compulsive way on this last trek to the mountains, that I stepped outside of our cabin and was greeted by a host of wildflowers.

Now, as my husband will attest to, bringing the beauty of fresh-cut flowers indoors gives my heart great joy. (This is much to his chagrin, however, for he's spotted BUGS on these flowers more than once. I don't mind these friendly critters that stay put on their beautiful homes, but this poses a serious challenge to his comfort.) Nonetheless, I began gathering a number of bouquets. Some contained just white flowers, some were multi-colored, some were varying shades of purple, but all were delicately and wildly beautiful.

My favorite flower in these gathering sessions (for there were many throughout our stay) was the Mountain Bluebell Bell flower. It has such a delicate head whose feather-weight pulls its fragile stem into a gentle arch. Clothed in a vibrant but almost translucent purple, its beauty and vulnerability captured my heart. In a field of flowers, this one made me stop.





Because it was alone.
Because it was fragile.
Because it just was.






I'm not sure why this flower -- of all the beautiful ones -- impressed me so.  Whether there was one flower per stalk, or two or three, there was a terrible fragility to this flower as it stood alone, so susceptible to being trampled by a thoughtless tread or beat down by a hard rain.

I didn't want to pick these flowers.

Somehow, I felt that picking them was depriving them of their God-given purpose of bringing glory to Him in a field of grass. Not many people saw these precious flowers -- just Him and me and possibly a handful of others. These flowers were not on the Times Square JumboTron. They were not famous or sought after for their beauty. They just existed in a field and brought pleasure to Him.

What a high calling. What a glorious purpose -- just to bring His heart delight as He gazed upon it.

And I found my heart identifying with this tiny flower, for this is what I want.

This flower is somehow me. I want to just be. I want to give His heart delight by just existing as I was created to.

But it is so hard.

No other life on the planet struggles to just be like we do, as humans. This is irony, of course, because how can one struggle to be. The act of being is the state of ceasing to struggle, to simply exist. What a mess has been made of what was once simply beautiful humanity.

In his book The Gift of Being Yourself, David Benner gave vent to the struggle of my heart with these words --

"In all of creation, identity is a challenge only for humans. A tulip knows exactly what it is. It is never tempted by false ways of being. Nor does it face complicated decisions in the process of becoming. So it is with dogs, rocks, trees, stars, amoebas, electrons, and all other things. All give glory to God by being exactly what they are. For in being what God means them to be, they are obeying Him. Humans, however, face a more challenged existence. We think. We consider options. We decide. We act. We doubt. Simple being is tremendously difficult to achieve and fully authentic being is extremely rare."

And yet this is what I want. I want to reach the place of rest --

the place of being
the place where striving ceases
the place where I am ever aware of Whose I am
the place where I find my true self, hidden in Him
the place where I know, as I am known
the place that is home

What this simple flower so easily does, I am in the process of finding my way back to -- being.

Lord, take me there.

The Stick of Self-Loathing

Similar to a jockey riding a race horse in the Kentucky Derby, whipping the horse's rump to make it perform better, I have found that self-loathing is the stick I use to beat myself when I fail. This is the stick I use to spur myself on to a better course of action, to a better performance.






"What a failure you are!"                                        "You are disgusting."

                          "You are so fat."                                                   "You are a hopeless disappointment."

"Geeze. Gross."                           "You're pathetic."


Words that I would never speak to a living soul, I breathe into my own heart.

And I didn't even realize that I was doing it.

Until now.


The truth is, self-loathing does motivate, but it does not do so for long. It can only motivate while I am beating myself with it mercilessly. Once the beating stops, so does the motivation. This sort of thought process slaps the face of my Creator, for it speaks lies and curses to the very core of who I am -- words that He would never speak to me or over me, words that He does not agree with. This is definitely not the life that He's told me is mine -- a life of freedom, beauty, light, health and love. The life of self-loathing is one of darkness, shame, guilt, and hatred -- and this is not what He chose for me. This is not why He suffered the cross. This is not His best for me.

I have just come to hear these words (that I have been speaking to myself my entire life) over the past few weeks. Like molten lava below the crust of my life, this destructive force begins to pour from below the surface whenever a failure of mine cracks the surface of my I've-got-it-together crust. And with it, this lava brings destruction and death.

A few recent incidents began to crack the hardened crust of my life, allowing this fiery hatred to pour forth into my consciousness.


I got my first speeding ticket EVER. (I'm thirty-five.)

I popped a tire on my van when I hit a curb from taking the corner too fast.

I gained a clothes-are-getting-too-tight amount of weight.



I began see words like "failure" and "disgusting" and "gross" and "horrendous" and "shameful" erupt into my mind. These words -- while so familiar -- were now discordant with the truth He has been revealing to my heart over the past months and years. "Where did these come from?" I wondered. Ah, sweetheart, He said, they have been there all along. But they have played well with the melody of your previous life -- that you were not loved, not good enough, not delighted in. Now that you know that this old melody is not your true heart's song, these curses you have spoken over yourself for years in order to perform better -- these don't sound right with the new melody I've given you, do they?

In His grace, the Lord has chosen now as the time for me to begin to face some of my self-loathing. He has chosen now as the time to begin the process of healing and freedom. He has chosen now to begin to re-train my thinking and to breathe His truth into my thinking about myself.

And He used my recent failings so that He could bring this to my attention.

You see, as long as I am "succeeding" at controlling myself and my environment -- as long as there are no "cracks" in the crust of my life -- the self-loathing just simmers deeply below the surface. There is no need to pull out my "beating stick" because I'm doing all right. But when I fail . . . well, watch out. Here comes the lava which I will quickly fashion into a stick. And here we go again with the beating.

But I'm at a loss. If beating myself into the right course of action is not how I'm supposed to respond to failure in order to bring about change, then what in the world is this process supposed to look? God doesn't want me to over-eat, to get speeding tickets, to continue to replace tires. Does He?

I know that success cannot be a "willful success" -- one that I achieve by myself, by my extremely heroic efforts, by my sheer will-power. I've seen all to clearly that such "success" does not last. It is the self-help epidemic with a nice cloak of prayer-y Christianity, but it is still all flesh. It is still a program doomed for failure, as all self-help programs are. Truly, if I believe that my flesh has been crucified with Christ, then any sort of self-improvement project is nothing more than dressing up a corpse, putting on some makeup and perfume and fancy clothes -- but perfume can't cover up that stench for long, and  soon my failure resurfaces. And so does my self-loathing, bubbling up from below. And out come the stick. And here we go again.

My true success is not "success" at all -- a better word for it is freedom. And freedom doesn't come through control. It only comes when I release control, when I agree that my best efforts are are not going to cut it and that they are, in fact, sin -- that they are willful attempts to fix what I cannot fix, to control what I cannot control, to heal what I cannot heal. These efforts are once again trusting in me -- a fallen and impotent god.



I'd never seen this before. I guess I thought that I was helping Him by handling what I deemed "the small stuff" -- like my eating and driving habits.

But I can't even control those.


Sheesh.


As the Lord has been revealing the fierce and scalding lava of self-loathing in me, my response has been two-fold. Ironically, my first response was . . . that's right -- self-loathing. I really wanted to pull out my stick and beat myself for failing again. But He gently removed that stick from my hand and did not allow me to use it on myself. And so I was just left with sorrow -- a deep-seated grief that I have been hating so fiercely a girl that He loves and delights in so desperately. How it must stab His heart each time I curse myself and speak lies to motivate myself.

And yet up until this point in time, I knew no other way. I had no other options. As a scared little girl who greatly feared disapproval, I did the best I could to avoid it. Sweet little Courtney knew "performing better" as the only way to escape the painful  disapproval that came with failure.

But little Courtney does not deserve to be hated, too. She needs to be embraced as much as grown-up Courtney needs to be embraced.

And so, together, we walk toward Him -- the One who loves us deeply, with all our wounds and fears and pain. We see Him with His arms open, a smile on His face and love in His eyes. As we reach Him, He embraces us fully, speaking words of grace and healing. I am able to thank sweet, little Courtney for doing the best she could with what she had. I embrace her. And in that embrace, a new freedom is born -- one that is born of love, not fear. Behind us, He drives a cross into the ground, and then He takes our hands and walks us away from this point. No more.

I no longer need the stick of self-loathing to motivate better performance. The curses I have spoken in the past are no longer needed. The cross dealt with the sin. From here forward, I am free. Will the lies, curses, and self-loathing still surface? Sure. Right now, they are still habit. But you can bet He's going to be pretty quick to point them out. And then I can ask that He replace them with His words of truth.

My freedom comes when I admit the truth that I am out of control, that I'm scared and fearful, that I don't know how to change without self-loathing. My freedom comes when I confess that I have tried to fix myself and that I have failed miserably.

My freedom comes when I invite Him into my mess, when I ask for His light to shine in the darkness of this area of self-loathing that has been bubbling viciously below the surface of my life.  My freedom comes in dragging this from the darkness and into the light.


My freedom comes in that I will be walking this area, too, with Him.

True freedom. It's not the absence of failure. True freedom is walking each moment, my hand in His, believing the truth He speaks about me and about Himself. This is true freedom.



And this is why He came.



Oh, my Love, walk me toward freedom and emotional health in this area, too. Thank you for loving me fully, for delighting in me completely amidst my mess. Thank you for getting me to this place of seeing my sin. Let's walk forward from here.

Royal Wedding through the Heart

"Now and then, in this workaday world, things do happen in the delightful storybook fashion, and what a comfort that is."
- Louisa May Alcott, Little Women

 I have been unable to get this quote out of my mind for the last few days as I have been drinking in -- okay, maybe guzzling -- all forms of media coverage of the Royal Wedding of William and Kate.

Did anyone else notice that Prince William wore exactly what the Handsome Prince is wearing at his wedding in Cinderella? The fairy tale has truly come to life right before my eyes.

And my heart rejoices.


As I sat on my couch with a huge, goofy grin on my face, I realized that this wedding was doing something internally that no other wedding I have watched has ever done. Something inside of my chest was being released, was being reborn. Every so often, something, some event, awakens this in me. I needed to press in, to find what this was.

As the excitement settled to the bottom of the glass of my mind, I could see my thoughts and feelings a bit more clearly. What was remaining in this glass was the deep-seated knowledge that I was created for something more, something not "common" by any definition. My heart had found a bit of home, a bit of comfort, a bit of affirmation in watching the Royal Wedding.

For a few minutes of the hours of spectacle, my husband watched with me. (He actually did not change the channel during one of the wedding replay specials.) I was more than a little intrigued . . . my sports-loving, explosion-addicted, shoot-up-the-bad-guys husband was actually watching the Royal Wedding willingly.

So, I had to ask him. What does watching this stir in you? What is going on internally as you watch this? His answer resonated with my own, but from the male perspective. What gripped him was the pomp, the tradition, the regalia, the formality, the honor of the soldiers, the history apparent, the duty that was called forth on an occasion such as this.

Both he and I found the innate knowledge of "something more" called forth in us as we watched.

But of course this would rise up in me, and indeed should rise up in me. It is truly woven into the very fabric of who I am, woven there by the One who made me, placed there so that I would thirst for Him. He actually tells us that He has "placed eternity in [our] hearts. (Ecclesiastes 3:11) In the truest sense, this -- this wedding of a commoner to a prince, this rise from nobody to somebody, this calling forth of beauty, this honor, this regalia -- this is what I was made for.

When He speaks of me in His Word, He says things like,

My darling, you are lovely in every way . . . You are a royal crown of beauty in My hand . . . I delight in you . . . I rejoice over you . . .I celebrate and sing because of you . . . You shine like the sun . . . I, the King, desire your beauty . . . you are all glorious within . . . I have sought you out . . . You are clothed in the finest fabric, bright and clean . . . wrapped in it . . .Nothing can separate you from my love . . . I have fought for you and won . . . You are mine and no one can take you from me.*

But I have several friends who have really struggled with this event. They have spat out words like "dumb" and "stupid" and "waste of money."

It makes my heart sad to hear them say things like this, not so much because it dampens my joy but because such a strong negative reaction tells me that there are wounds somewhere in each of these women and men that have never been healed -- a lie spoken to them that has killed this part of their heart. They have been told somewhere along the line (either by a person they respect or by their own disappointed heart) that there is nothing "more," that fairy tales do not come true, and that it is silly to believe that sort of thing. But I can tell by the energy of their reactions that these false beliefs create a dissonance in their souls. And well they should.

There is a reason that every culture around the globe has royalty (and when their is void -- as in America -- the culture creates their own version of royalty, i.e. our Hollywood A-listers). There is a reason that we, as humans, feel the need to look up to someone, to admire beauty, to long for the happy ending, to thrill at the sense of the heroic, of doing one's duty.

These things were written into our very beings. They call us to Him.

Will I receive a royal crown on earth? No. Did  I marry into a royal family? No. But I have already begun to taste a bit of what I will receive when I finally meet my Love face-to-face, and it is far better than anything this earth can possibly come up with. Oh, to see the love in His eyes! I just can't wait for that moment.

But for now, I can rejoice fully in the "tastes" of heaven that I get here on earth. I can delight in the beauty, in the fairy tale, in the honor and call to something more. I can let my heart swell with the joy of the event. I can allow it to create a desire, a yearning, a thirst. And then I can turn to Him and tell Him how excited I am for our day to come . . .

And what a comfort that is to remember here in my common world.



* Song of Solomon 4:7, Isaiah 62:3-5, Zephaniah 3:17, Psalm 34:5, Psalm 45:11 , 13, Isaiah 62:12,  Revelation 19:8, Isaiah61:10, Romans 8:39, John 19:30, John 10:28-29

Royal Wedding through the Eyes

My heart has been brimming with delight the last few days because of this event. I truly haven't been able to sort out all of my thoughts, but they are settling into two distinct camps -- what delighted my eyes and what delighted my heart. More on the latter is to come. For now I will pour out what delighted my eyes . . .and what just plain made me laugh . . . or cringe.

There were so many things right about this event by way of beauty and adornment, that I experienced a bit of sensory overload. Usually (as with the Oscars) there are plenty of "misses" and only a handful of "hits." With the Royal Wedding, I found it to be reversed. But the misses were there, and they made me smile.

Top of my Missed the Mark list are the Princesses Eugenie and Beatrice. Sigh.

Holy Tornado, Batman.

Let me just say that I love hats. I wear them. I delight in them. I think that fascinators (small, usually clip-on hat/hairpieces) are beautiful and can be worn with great style (see Princess Kate, left), but bless these girls hearts, they just took a giant misstep into the land of the ugly stepsisters. Seriously, a canoe hat and a funnel cake hat? For the Royal Wedding? Yikes. And don't get me started on Princess Eugenie's dress. I'll just point out that this is the wrong silhouette for her frame. 'nuff said.

Another one to make my Missed the Mark list is Princess Anne. Possibly she was aiming for "light spring bouquet," but I think that she came off looking like a crazy mix of the Mad Hatter and the Wicked Witch of the West.

Truth be told, I love the colors, I love the coat, I love the hat, I love the shoes, but these things just didn't play well together, and with her up-do, they started an all-out war.

It is a sad Miss because it was within inches of being a Hit.

Next up is Tara Palmer-Tomkinson wearing an electric blue costume by Debra Miller. The dress is a beautiful design with the high collar, sweeping sleeves and form-fitting silhouette. The heels are gorgeous with their sling-backs and peep-toes. The hat is definitely a statement, but her figure is long and lean enough to carry it off.

The Miss came in with the color. I know that British fashion is different from American fashion -- a bit more zany and extravagant over the ocean, they are. But regardless of that, I really struggle with any woman who comes decked out to a wedding in such at way that it competes with the bride in an obvious way.

Ms. Palmer-Tomkinson did just that. Electric blue does not rejoice, "I celebrate with you!" It screams, "Has anyone noticed that I look like a Smurf from head to toe?!?!"

And last on my Missed the Mark list is the Prime Minister's wife -- Samantha Cameron, wearing a Burberry London dress. The dress is "Meh." It just doesn't do anything for her, and it looks more like a dress to be worn to the office and less like a dress for the Royal Wedding.

The real reason she so clearly misses the mark is that she is missing a very important piece of her ensemble. Who attends a wedding in London -- or anywhere in England, for that matter -- without a hat? And this was not just any wedding, but the Royal Wedding.

I'm fairly ignorant of British politics, but I sincerely hope that this was not a planned snub of the monarchy. There is a time for politics and for making statements, but weddings are not those times. The entire statement of the outfit is, "Oh, a wedding? We're going to a wedding? Eh, well, I guess this will do."

I will assume the best of her. This was not a snub of the monarchy. This was just a complete lack of fashion sense and decorum. Well, at least her shoes look good.




Enough of the Missed the Mark List. On to my favorites --

The woman whose hat captivated me is Sophie Winkleman. And it wasn't just her hat, but her entire ensemble (Giorgio Armani). Her hat (designed by the hat designer of Britain, Philip Treacy) is a perfectly balanced blend of decor and function. It breeds the ole' straw sun hat with art. By sliding the hat off-center and balancing it with a modern twist on a flower, Treacy makes a gorgeous statement.

Wisely, Ms. Winlkeman wore her hair up and allowed her beautiful pearl earrings to stand out against her dark coif and navy hat and dress. Nude-coral lipstick accents her full lips without making them compete with her hat for attention. I offer a hearty well-done for this look!

As to the royal family, I applaud the Queen for her daring foray into the land of yellow (not a traditional color for the Queen to wear). Her suit (designed by Angela Kelly) is sweetly modern for  her with its tucks around the neck, and her diamond brooch -- Queen Mary's True Lovers Knot -- is an endearing nod on her part to the young couple. I would have loved a bit more curve and sweep for her hat (it comes off looking a bit starched next to her modern-ish suit), but I think that overall it works well for her position and age. She's just so cute! Not sure I can say that about the Queen of England . . .





And then there is Princess Kate . . .

Much has been said about Princess Kate's dress. As soon as I saw it, my mind starting searching its archives for where I had seen its inspiration. While I don't know exactly where Alexander McQueen's designer Sarah Burton found her inspiration, I would like to think it was Princess Grace's dress. I've long loved Princess Grace, and now Princess Kate has worked her way into my heart with her choice of this dress. (Well, okay, she's also dear to my heart because of her endearing smile and general fashion savvy -- oh, and she's a brunette princess!)

While I love the high neck that Princess Grace wore, I like the v-neck that Princess Kate chose. The V of her dress elongates her neck and creates a very regal look for her. And I do love Princess Kate's dark hair being worn down -- a beautiful contrast to her veil and the white lace on her shoulders.

Confession:
I'm a bit ashamed to say that Pippa Middleton's gown kept distracting me from Princess Kate's. I love the wedding dress, but Pippa's gown was magnificent and she wore it elegantly. Her lithe frame is the perfect form upon which to drape this Alexander McQueen creation. From the loose, capped sleeves to the draped cowl, from the row of buttons down the back to the slight train, I am in love with the dress. Wow. And being white, I love it even more. Instead of being some sort of gaudy addendum to the brides' train, she was a soft completion of it as she carried and straightened it.

And my surprise-to-me favorite look from the Royal Wedding comes from a very unlikely source -- Princess Ameerah of Saudi wearing a custom-made Zuhair Murad. From the hat to the shoes, I love this look on her. The nude color is absolutely stunning against her dark skin and jet-black hair -- and she picked the right nude for her skin-tone with just a blush of pink to it. I love that she swept her hair over her shoulder like a luxurious mink stole. Her diamond earrings stand out against the palate of nudes with just the right sparkle. The fitted bodice of the dress flairs into a soft ruffle of lace a the bottom . . . gorgeous.

And can I just say that it's classic that her husband has a cell phone stuck to his ear at the Royal Wedding. Apparently men the world over are in love with their phones.

Side Note: Is the Princess of Saudi allowed to go into public "uncovered" like this?

There were a few more Misses (Posh Spice with stripper shoes) and Hits (Letizia, Princess of Asturias, in her simple and delicate blush-colored dress by Felipe Varela), but these were my very favorites. Sigh. Such a delight to my eyes! More to come on what delighted my heart . .

Not Good Enough

Keep your eyes on the Lord!

You will shine like the sun and never blush with shame.

Psalm 34:5

This verse has always gripped me, as I have always felt insufficient, like a failure in some area,  not good enough, not pretty enough, not competent enough, and on and on and on.

Because my constant companion has been these feelings of "not enough," shame has always been my constant companion, as well. I have needed to hide my insufficiencies so that no one would see them and shame me because of them.  

Blech.


This has led to some serious, constant, exhausting running-dancing-tapping-jumping to keep everyone from seeing all that is true about me -- that I actually am not "good enough" or "smart enough" or "pretty enough" to win the race of life. I am a failure in so very many ways. And what a relief it is to admit!

This last week, I read Isaiah 50:6-7. Again, I was gripped in a similar way as I have been gripped by Psalm 34:5. This passage, also, speaks of not being ashamed. It is a prophetic passage in which Isaiah is speaking for Jesus, and Jesus says this:

"I gave my back to those who strike Me,
And my cheeks to those who pluck out the beard:
I did not cover My face from humiliation and spitting.
For the Lord helps Me,
Therefore, I am not disgraced:
Therefore, I have set My face like flint,
And I know that I will not be ashamed."

Now, if anyone experienced true shaming, it was Christ. He was beaten, called a blasphemer, spat upon, His clothing stripped from Him, His beard (a symbol of manhood) ripped out . . . and yet He was not ashamed, not disgraced.

I have been thinking on this, asking the Lord for how this could be true. Not disgraced? Of course He was! Not ashamed? He well should have been. But these verses say that He was neither.

The reason He was not:

He knew who He was,
               Whose He was, and
                          what He was here to do.

(I use past tense, though He lives, as reference to His time here on earth.)

So, is the answer that easy for me? To know who I am, Whose I am, and what I'm here to do? If I know these things, will the shame, the guilt, the "you're not good enough" that others paint me with (and I paint myself with) -- with these seriously not stick to me?!?!

The short answer is "yes," but Psalm 34 gave a pretty clear and all-consuming prerequisite for this to sink into my heart from my head.

My eyes have to be on Him.

I can't just know in my head that "Jesus loves me" and that I'm His daughter and that I'm here to love Him and others more and more fully. THAT won't cut it. Head knowledge is usesless in matters of the heart, and my heart won't believe what it hasn't experienced. I have to experience this love He has for me. I have to taste His delight. Have to sense His pride that I'm His daughter.

I have to keep my eyes constantly on Him so that all that I'm hearing is His voice and not the voice of self-condemnation and the voices of the condemnation of others.

When Isaiah (and Luke in Luke 9:51) spoke of Jesus having His face set "like flint" -- this was a one-focus, nothing-interfering heartbeat and mindset.

In order to not let the "not good enough"s of the world stick to me, I have to only be hearing one voice -- His. The rest will not phase me as I listen only to Him.

Easy? No.
Worth crying out to Him for? Absolutely.

So, I pray. I cry out for Him to enable me to hear only His voice. It is certainly a life-long process, and some days are better than others. But He is answering. As I soak in Him, His presence, His truth, He is answering my heart's cry.


~~~~~~~~~


These are some of the truths I love to soak in:

My darling, you are lovely in every way.
Song of Solomon 4:7

You will also be a crown of beauty in the hand of the Lord, and a royal diadem in the hand of your God. It will no longer be said of you, "Forsaken" . . . But you will be called, "My delight is in her" . . . For the Lord delights in you . . . For as a young man marries a virgin . . .and as the bridegoom rejoices over the bride, So your God will rejoice over you.
Isaiah 62:3-5

The Lord appeared to him from afar, saying, "I have loved you with an everlasting love, Therefore I have drawn you with lovingkindness."
Jeremiah 31:3

The Lord your God wins victory after victory and is always with you. He celebrates and sings because of you, and he will refresh your life with his love."
Zephaniah 3:17

I, the Lord, will build a fence of thorns to block her path.
She will run after her lovers, but not catch them: she will search but not find them. Then she will say, "I'll return to my first husband. Life was better then."
I, the Lord, will lure you into the desert and speak gently to you.
Hosea 2:6-7,14

I am sure that nothing can separate us from God's love -- not life or death, not angels or spirits, not the present or the future, and not powers above or powers below. Nothing in all creation can separate us from God's love for us in Christ Jesus our Lord!
Romans 8:38-39

May your heart come awake to the One voice that speaks gently and lovingly all the time.

Feeling Abandoned

But I said, "The Lord has forsaken me, and the Lord has forgotten me."
Isaiah 49:14

These words were first spoken by Isaiah for the people of Israel who were feeling completely forsaken by the Lord during their exile in Babylon. They had been conquered and carried away and were feeling like the Lord had completely forgotten that they were His people, that He had promised to protect and guide them and be with them. Valid thoughts by Israel.

And they are my thoughts, too.



I began to ponder when, exactly, it is that I feel most forsaken, most forgotten, most abandoned by God.

Similarly to Israel, my greatest moments of despair are when I have prayed and prayed for something (usually release from some source of pain) and He has not answered my prayer. OR when I have prayed and prayed for something to become a reality, and He has not answered that prayer. In short, I feel abandoned most when He doesn't do things my way and in my time.

Huh.

Looks like Israel and I have much in common. Just as they did not understand that their time of captivity in Babylon was, indeed, for their good, for their health, and for them to have an expanded and corrected view of God, so I do not understand the same things.

When pain comes into my life, I immediately cry foul. Pain cannot coexist with love in my paradigm.

But He is changing that.

I am coming to see that pain not only can exist with love, it must exist with love. Without pain comes no change, no growth, no expanded and corrected view of Him. He is intimate with me in my pain. It is precisely there that He exists.

Far from abandoning me to my pain, He is tenderly present there.

Isaiah 49 goes on to say in the next verses
"Can a woman forget her nursing child and have no compassion on  the son of her womb?
Even these may forget, but I will not forget you.
Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands."

How intimate is the presence of a nursing mother to her baby? The sweet baby is actually drawing life from his mommy at her breast. How could she possibly forget that child? (And anyone who has ever nursed a baby knows that within a few hours, your chest becomes extremely hard and painful if the child does not nurse -- it is physically impossible to forget the child you are nursing!)

But God says, even if that were to be able to happen, even so, I will never forget you. I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands -- and this is no tattoo on His palm (tattoos don't stay on the palm because of the high cellular turnover). This is a literal carving of my name into His palm -- a deep cutting, with blood, to get my name permanently there. He's invested in this journey with me, in this relationship with me. And He's not just in it for today or to get me through my current crisis. He is in this for the long haul -- to my death and then beyond my death into all eternity. His view of our relationship is much greater than mine often is. And each moment holds another revelation of His true Self to me, if I'm willing.

So, when I feel forsaken, abandoned, forgotten, has He forgotten me? No. It is impossible. What has abandoned me is my small view of Him. He has blown apart yet another of my "little gods" that I had inadvertently created. These little gods are ideas about Him (that are not true) that I worship instead of Him, that I hold onto instead of Him, that I use as ammunition against Him in my angry tirades at Him. But they only serve to block me from Him. Therein lies my feeling of abandonment. I have a shield against Him of my own creation. And I feel alone.

When I'm feeling alone, without His presence, what do I do? I pray. I ask Him to reveal the lie that I have believed about Him.
                   If God is truly good, truly loving, will He allow deep pain to touch my life? Yes.
                   If He cares about me, will He refuse to give me some things that I desperately desire? Yes.       
                   If He is present in my life, will He allow things to fall apart? Yes.

Sigh. I don't understand.

So, I ask Him for an expanded and corrected view of Him. I ask Him to show me how He is present to me, to re-frame my current circumstance and pain so that I may see Him accurately. Because He is there. He is as close as my next breath. He cannot forget me or be far off.

But my little gods easily can get blown apart in the face of His true self, His true working, His loving plan that I don't understand. And that is what He's all about -- destroying things which stand between His heart and mine beating as one.

Lord, give me the heart to see you more clearly and to see your true Self amidst my pain. I want to know You, not some smaller, controllable version of you that I have created.

Pain or not, I'm in this for the long haul.

For all eternity.

I'm in.

Undaunted Radiance

"Undaunted radiance is not built on anything passing, but on the love of God that nothing can alter." -Oswald Chambers

I love the phrase "undaunted radiance."


It is nothing at all to do with the facial structure or skin tone.


Undaunted radiance is a fountain of glory springing up from a soul's center that is assured of His complete and total infatuation and delight.

Nothing can diminish  that sort of radiance, so it can stand in the face of heartbreak or monotony undaunted.

Undaunted.

You Are Not Alone

This is the song that He sang to me one night as I wrestled with my past, my fears for the future, my wounds that were aching. For those on a similar journey, may He sing to your heart as well.

You are not alone.

You are not alone.

Though your fears are rising high,

                                                     creeping like the tide,

                                                                                        listen. deep inside.

                                                                                                                    for it is there I reside.

You are not alone.

You are not alone.

When the darkness is so deep, I know that you can’t see

                                                                                       the light that is Me.

                                                       Just rest and be.

You are not alone.

You are not alone.

I am not afraid of the mess.                                        I am not afraid of the pain.

You are never too much.                                            I am not afraid of your rage.

                                                          Pour it out on me.

For when it’s out, you can see

                                        that the Hope, the Life, the Light you need

Is Me

Is Me

Is Me

You are not alone.

You are not alone.

What Made My Heart Happy from the 2011 Oscars

While not an incredibly remarkable Oscar year, I would have to say that it left me as satisfied as a meal a McDonald's -- no longer hungry, but wishing I had something better.

My favorite looks were from Marchesa, Vera Wang, and Vivienne Westwood.

I'll start with sweet Hailee Steinfeld. While not a fan of her performance in True Grit, the little girl in me loved her dress (not so much the shoes, though. A fourteen-year-old in five-inch spikes? YIKES! It is a bit like Princess meets Hooker).

I haven't been able to get this dress out of my mind for the last few days, and as I pondered why, I concluded that it was because this dress took me back to one of my earliest fashion memories -- Vera-Ellen in the film White Christmas. I always wanted  a dress like the ones she wore in her first dance scene with Danny Kaye. Sigh  . . .

Hailee somehow got the dress I always wanted as a little girl.

The other gown by Marchesa that I liked was worn by Halle Berry. What I liked about this gown on her was how the color of it highlighted her mocha skin tone. Oh, it makes my heart sing to see how the colors play off each other, the undertone of the dress picking up the tone of her skin. The tulle around the bust adds visual interest without making too much fuss, while the lower layers of tulle hearken back to Old Hollywood style -- but are saved from the unfortunate Marisa Tomei "archival" incident this year by their asymmetrical styling and lack of uniform layering. And, truly, I give a hearty thanks to Halle for dressing her beautiful body with grace and style (as women with far less this year smashed, squeezed and tortured their bodies into dresses that should not have been options. 'nuff said.)

The next dress is not one of my favorite looks, but rather an example of an amazing dress wearing the woman. Sandra Bullock is beautiful, absolutely beautiful, but this Vera Wang wore her this year. Instead of looking like glorious Sandra, she looks like Sandra playing the role of Hollywood Royalty. The shade of red -- instead of complimenting her skin tone -- made it appear pale and ghostly, highlighting her lips in a non-flattering way. She wears the difficulty of her past year with a regal grace and grounded savvy evident in her poise and face. I wish she had found a dress that allowed her to stand regally, instead of her dress.

My last noteworthy selection is from Vivienne Westwood, worn by Helen Mirren. Ms. Mirren makes my heart glow. As so many others in Hollywood botox, sculpt, cream and surgery to delay their inevitable fall, Ms. Mirren has shown that the greatest beauty comes from a life lived in each moment, from acceptance of who you are, from delight in beauty at any age. Every year I look forward to seeing what she selects because she is a woman of class and dignity who dresses her body in a way that expresses her high-view of her own personal worth.

Veiling Beauty

I have been praying, wrestling with how to share with my daughter the honor it is to be a woman, and the grace with which we must carry the beauty that has been given us. The following is the answer my Love gave me.



-------



I had a dream.
In it, I saw the Mona Lisa wrentched from her wall in the Louvre, carried with rough and dirty hands and tossed into an old, beaten up cart, pulled by a filthy, half-starved horse. The cart was filled with dirty hay and flies were swarming around. Bits of manure clung to the hay and the wagon. Into this, the painting was carelessly flung, propped up with some straw behind it.

The driver of the cart whipped the horse, and it lurched forward. He traveled aimlessly up and down the streets of Paris pulling this priceless treasure. I could see that manure had somewhow gotten smeared on the canvas. I felt sick. What is going on?

As the cart passed through the streets, I could hear clueless people with untrained eyes commenting on the painting.

“What an ugly picture!”

“Look how long her nose is!”
“Ha! Her forehead is too large!”

One group of teenagers threw their sodas at the painting as it passed, soaking it with sticky liquid. The flies that had been buzzing around the straw and manure now landed on the painting and began to feast.

My heart began to squeeze tightly in my chest, and my throat was so constricted as I watched this that I could hardly breathe. Don’t these people realize what this is? What are they doing? This painting is irreplaceable! It’s priceless! Even if Leonardo da Vinci were still alive, he could never duplicate this work! This is not how you treat a great work of art! I groaned as I hung my head in despair.

Back before time, when my Love was creating, He planned to create two separate beings that would present a complete picture of Himself to the world. He created Adam first and then pronounced him “alone.” In Himself, my Love is never alone, but Adam was incomplete without Eve. Woman, when she was created, was not an addendum to creation, but a completion of it. Man was to be a picture of my Love’s strength, His might, His provision, His protection. Woman was to be a picture of His grace, His beauty, His tenderness, His care. My Love is neither male nor female, but he used both genders to create a complete picture of Who He is.

As the carriers of His beauty, we, as woman, have been demonized and victimized. Our beauty has been abused and misused. It has been undervalued and taken out of context. And what has been the church’s response? It has been to tell us to “dress modestly” and cover ourselves so that we don’t make men stumble into lust.

There are two problems I see with this party line that we have been fed by well-intending church members. The first problem is that this solution says that men are sexual beings with no control over their thoughts or actions. This paints men in a bad light, and it does not give them any credit for their ability to make wise and godly choices. The second problem that I see with this solution is that it paints women’s bodies to be temples of temptation and seduction. Again, this paints women in a bad light. Is that truly what our bodies are – temples of temptation and seduction?

Here’s how my Love reframed this for me --

When Moses came down from Mt. Sinai after spending time with the Lord, the Bible says that his face “shone” (Ex 34:35). Being in the presence of God made Moses radiant. Because of this radiance, Moses wore a veil over his face whenever he was not in the presence of God. Moses’ veil was not a covering for something shameful and sinful. Moses’ veil was to cover the radiance of God that dwelt on Him, for that radiance was not something that could be easily viewed by the common man – they neither understood nor appreciated it.

In a similar way, our beauty – the beauty of the female form – is a revelation of God and His beauty to the world.  While the male form is strong and powerful, it lacks the graceful curves of the female form that give it the right to be called “beautiful.” Every woman, no matter the size of her breasts or her hips, bears the graceful beauty of God in her form.

It is exactly this beauty that must be veiled. It is not intended for mass display. A work of art is housed and protected so that only the appreciative and loving eye can behold it. Our bodies are works of art – from the hands of a Master Sculptor. Each design is unique and beautiful, and each can never be replaced or duplicated.

But in so many ways we have allowed our bodies to become degraded and undervalued. Failing to see their worth, ourselves, we have put them on display and paraded them about. They have been critiqued by the masses, and we have accepted the critiques. They have been figuratively spat upon and dirtied, and we have accepted that, for we don’t understand their value and worth. We have been the driver of the cart, parading our priceless treasure around in filth for all to see and comment upon.

Oh, this is not how it should be! The beauty of our form has great value and worth! It is unique and priceless, and as such it should be veiled – out of honor and respect for the treasure that it is. The beauty of our form is to be reserved for one man – the one that God has deemed worthy to see and appreciate it, the one that has committed to us for life. Only he has the eye that can appreciate the artwork before him.

Our bodies are not commodities to be used and traded. They are not our possessions to do with as we like. They are unique expressions of God’s beauty to this world, and as such they are worthy of great honor and respect.

My prayer has become that He would redeem the glory of my form, and eventually my daughter's form, from the back of the filthy wagon. May I allow Him to continue to restore my body to its original condition and place. May I allow Him to bring worth back to it . . . and may I then veil it beautifully so that it may retain its worth.

Top 10 Oscar Looks

As I prepare for my personal Superbowl (the Oscars), I have spent considerable time thinking about why the Academy Awards are such a highlight to my year. The answer for me lies in the fact that, in America,  Hollywood represents our royalty. (The sadness of that statement can be saved for another blog, but the truth remains.) As the grand ball of our royalty, I expect an amount of class and beauty to be present in the attire of the court at the Oscars. I believe it should whisper of elegance and grace.

So, the hours pouring over gowns from ages past over the last week have birthed the following - my current top 10 favorite looks from the years past.


#10
Anne Hathaway in Georgio Armani,  2009
A newbie to the Oscars, she carried herself with grace and poise. The gown lays beautifully on her lithe frame while the shimmer,dark hair, and red lips bespeak elegance.

#9
Jessica Alba in Versace, 2006
Draped in gold, her skin just glows. Minimal jewelery and soft, piled curls complete her look as she sweeps across the red carpet.

#8
Sophia Loren, 1963
Ah, my heart breaks with the grace and beauty of this woman. She has been the epitome of class and exotic charm (with a hearty dash of sex-appeal) for half a century. Many are compared to her, but she is the original. The feathered collar, the upswept hair, the jeweled belt and small earrings . . . She presents as royalty.

#7
Penelope Cruz in Donna Karen, 2008
While this is quite a bit of dress, Penelope carries it off as no one (since Sophia Loren, really) but she possibly could. Her dark skin and dark hair warm the entire look, while the drop earrings and jeweled cuff sparkle on the dark canvas of the dress and her gorgeous skin. The dress wraps her in its regal red, sweeping up toward her face and highlighting her creamy chest, neck, and arms.

#6
Marissa Tomei in Versace, 2009
I could just stare and stare at this dress! It is absolutely amazing, full of lines and pleats and intricate folds. The silver color highlights the details of the dress, while not making it too overwhelming of a statement. Her unstructured hair and subtle jewelery are the perfect compliment to such a highly structured dress.

#5
Renee Zellweger in Carolina Herrera, 2004
I truly prefer Renee with this body shape/size, and this dress highlights her curves beautifully. The shade is a perfect pearl color that warms her skin, and her feminine jewelery add the right touch without overwhelming the look. The red lips, lined eyes, and darkened eyebrows enable her face to tastefully stand out, instead of being washed out with the white of the dress.

#4
Charlize Theron in Vera Wang, 2000
Another dress that I could just gaze and gaze at, this Vera Wang adds curves to Charlize's boyish frame. The halter neckline -- and especially the ruching in the back -- swings the eye in luscious lines while accentuating her broad shoulders and slender back. The pin-tucked hair tops the look in 1920's style.

#3
Grace Kelly in Edith Head, 1955
Grace Kelly is iconic, in and of herself, but so is her designer, Edith Head, and my list would not be complete without the mention of them both. Edith Head designed for both Grace Kelly as well as Audrey Hepburn for movie such as Rear Window, Sabrina, and Roman Holiday. Her looks, as much as her two leading ladies, bespeak class and royalty. This dress in its ice-blue sweeps around Kelly's frame and highlights her blond hair magnificently -- royalty in life as well as in Hollywood.

 #2
Diane Lane in Oscar de la Renta, 2003
I'm not quite sure how Diane Lane ended up as #2 (ahead of Grace Kelly!!). All I can say is that I am captivated by her in this gown. She is no longer part of the "young and sexy" class of Hollywood, but she has graduated to something far better. The golden fabric swaths her chest and creates enough mystery to draw our eye, but covers enough to encourage imagination. (Sexy is what is not seen.) The flowing feathers of the bottom half enable her to float over the carpet. Her softly structured hair seems the only reality in this ethereal vision.

#1
Kate Hudson in Versace, 2003
I don't know what else to say about this gown that hasn't already been said . . . the delicacy of the lace, the soft flow of the folds, the shimmer of her hair and the glow of her skin . . . sigh. Love this look. Hollywood royalty at its best.