"Let Food Be Thy Medicine" | A Review of Whole 30

Several people have been asking me about my food journey, so I figured I'd get my thoughts out in a blog. This post is long, but if you're curious about healthy lifestyles, I deeply encourage you to read it.

In January, I completely changed to eating a whole-food, plant-based diet. What does that mean? I became vegan and switched to (mostly) organic, unprocessed foods. I started to read food-labels and if there was something in a product that I couldn't pronounce nor knew what it was, I essentially didn't purchase it. I started realizing that I wouldn't sprinkle all of those pesticides and preservatives and chemicals on my food, so why was I putting them into my body in the first place?

So I re-learned how to grocery shop. I learned new recipes and ways of snacking. And from January-June, while I definitely felt better, I wasn't getting the results that I longed for, particularly pertaining to my sleep (or lack thereof).

When June arrived, I had my annual physical exam with a new primary physician. This new doctor took a more wholistic approach in comparison to my last doctor and after getting my blood work back, she recommended that I do Whole 30 for three months and then take my blood work again. My triglycerides were almost twice as high as the highest healthy limit, and I had other worrisome numbers in there, also.

Whole 30 is essentially a clean-eating Paleo lifestyle. It's supposed to function like a 30-day cleanse, as it's much stricter than just eating Paleo.

The rules of Whole 30?
...Do not consume added sugar of any kind, real or artificial (that includes maple syrup and honey).
...Do not consume alcohol in any form, not even for cooking.
...Do not eat grains (this includes corn and quinoa).
...Do not eat legumes.
...Do not eat dairy.
...Do not consume carrageenan, MSG, or sulfites.
...Do not try to re-create baked goods, junk foods, or treats with "approved" ingredients.

Some tips on Whole 30?
...Eat real, whole food.
...Basically, on Whole 30 you can eat meat, eggs, vegetables, fruit, and nuts (except for peanuts, which are a legume).
...If you're not sure, don't eat it.

So I switched my food lifestyle all over again. As you can see from the "don't" list, I could no longer be vegan. Without legumes and grains, I would only be able to eat fruits and vegetables as a vegan, and those wouldn't sustain me. Fortunately I was used to the no-dairy-thing and no-artificial-food-thing from the whole-food plant-based diet, but it was time to add back in meat and eggs and take out many more things.

My consensus? Whole 30 is much, much, much harder to stick to than being vegan. It was way more restrictive, especially when it came to eating meals out. (No added sugar meant that, for most places, I couldn't even have salad dressing. Oil and a lemon wedge on the side, thank you.) But it was so incredibly worth it.

It's Basic Science.
One of the first things I did after getting put on the Whole 30 (Whole 90?) plan was buy and read the book It Starts with Food. This book was written by the creators of Whole 30 and includes (in simplest terms with a lovely sense of humor) all of the science behind the program. The most fascinating thing that I learned from the book is that it's basically a hormone problem. The amount of carbs and sugars that are in a typical American diet throw off our hormones, which disrupts a variety of important cycles in our bodies.

My biggest recommendation if you are thinking of doing Whole 30 is to read It Starts with Food. For me, it was helpful to really understand why I was eating this way, especially on the days that I looked upon yet another batch of eggs for breakfast with disgust. After reading the book, I understood why my sleep was terrible, why my triglycerides were high enough to kill me, and why no matter how "healthy" I ate I just couldn't lose weight (and keep it off).

Another nugget of information that I gained from both being vegan and then being paleo is the harmful effects of dairy on the body. Think about it. We are the only "animals" that drink another animal's milk. It's sort of gross if you ask me. And while the thought of it made me gag, I am a cheese-lover. I could honestly sit down and eat an entire block of cheese in one sitting if I had the nerve. Cheddar. Blue cheese. Gouda. Parmesan. I love cheese. But the more I read, the more I realized how harmful it really is. According to Forks Over Knives (a documentary that promotes a vegan lifestyle), research has shown that the protein found in dairy is directly linked to breast cancer. That was enough to turn me vegan for awhile and is enough now to remind me that, by and large, I should stay away from the cheese (and milk and yogurt, etc). It's interesting that now if I have a "cheat-on-my-paleo-lifestyle" day with a piece of pizza or some other form of dairy, my stomach is usually extremely upset with me. My body has learned that cheese is bad (even if it tastes so good).


So what happened to me on Whole 30?

My Sleep Improved.
Every year of my life, my sleep slowly grew worse and worse, to the point that, over this last year, I was getting around two hours of sleep per night, if I slept at all. You can imagine the toll that this took on my body, my personal life, my work, and even my spiritual life.

After just a few short weeks of being on Whole 30, I began to sleep through the night. No, my sleep is still not perfect. Yes, I still take awhile to fall asleep and wake up a few times in the middle of the night. But now, I tend to get a full night's sleep every night.

Above all, this was the most significant impact that Whole 30 had on my life. It regulated my hormones so that I could sleep and function like a normal human being.

My Triglycerides Improved.
Normal triglycerides should be less than 150. Mine were checking in at 236, which made my doctor worried and was the primary reason she put me on Whole 30 to begin with. 236 was almost double what the highest "normal" number is. After three months of Whole 30 and taking fish oil supplements every day, my triglycerides went down to 68. Whoa. My doctor seemed surprised and thrilled at this number, as did I. Going from 236 to 68 in just three months with no medicine or anything? Well, that sounds almost unbelievable, like a miracle.

My Thyroid Began to Function Normally
Before Whole 30, my thyroid was in the hypothyroid range. Normal thyroid functioning is important for a variety of issues as it deals with hormones, sleep being one of them. When I got my blood work done the first time, my doctor offered to put me on medicine for this right away. She said that while Whole 30 might improve my results, it was unlikely. But I declined, curious to see what Whole 30 would do. Well, the new diet caused my thyroid to decrease just enough to put me in normal range. Take that, Modern Medicine.

My "Good Cholesterol" Increased.
My HDL levels (also known as "good cholesterol") was checking in previous to Whole 30 at 36, which is a rather low number. Good cholesterol is important to have in your body because it helps to fight the bad cholesterol.  After Whole 30, it increased to a (basically) normal range of 46.

I Lost Weight
I lost about 15 pounds when I went on the whole-food, plant-based diet but then my weight stabilized. On Whole 30, I lost an additional 15 pounds, totaling in a 30 pound loss for the year. Mind you, never once did I count calories and I rarely (rarely, rarely, rarely) exercise. All I did what change what kind of food I put into my body.

The interesting thing is that if I really thought about it, I was eating probably twice as many calories on Whole 30 than I ever had before, yet the pounds just began dropping without me even trying. This is all explained in the book It Starts with Food, but basically is due to this: Our bodies are created to burn fat. On the typical American diet, we consume so many sugars and carbohydrates (which turn into sugars) that our bodies have been conditioned to burn sugar and store fat. Cut out the carbs and sugars and your body re-learns how to burn fat like it was intended to do. Because of this process, the first couple of weeks on Whole 30 are hard. Like, really, really hard. Your body is re-learning how to function and you go through total sugar withdrawal. But after a couple of weeks, your body gets it and the withdrawal symptoms go away.

My Relationship with Food Improved.
I learned that I do not "have" to eat something. If I go out to eat or to a party, no one is force-feeding me ice cream or chips. During Whole 30, I literally had to say no to most food. I even went to a wedding(!) and managed to talk to the waitstaff and eat Whole 30 while I was there (talk about dedication). No one was forcing me to drink champagne at the toast or have the hors d'oeuvres at cocktail hour or eat the salad with the dressing. I learned to say no. This carried over after I completed my 90 days, too. Now on the weekends, I decide ahead of time what I want to "splurge" on and go for it. Celebration is important and going out to eat is something my husband and I love to do. But I also know what's "worth it" and what's not. I have said no to things like ice cream, bread, chips, etc. post-Whole 30 because I'm reminded that don't have to eat it just because it's available (or free).

I've come to view food as my medicine, rather than all the drugs that previous doctors have wanted to pump into my body. And so I can say no to foods because it's not healthy for me to consistently say yes to them. Hippocrates once said to "let food by thy medicine" and I think he understood the implications of food and chemicals on our body more than most modern scientists these days.

I also don't really miss all the sugar anymore. If I have just a little bit of sugar now my taste buds are like, "Yikes that is SWEET!" I also really missed my carbs in the beginnings (particularly pasta or bread for sandwiches), but I've learned how to do life without them and rarely even think about them as options anymore.

Whole 30 Is Not My Savior
While many of my health issues improved, others did not.  I still have seasonal allergies, joint pain, feel tired most of the time, and actually have a pretty significant health issue that another doctor has been seeing me about for 7 months now.  There are stories of Whole 30 fixing these for people, but it didn't for me. Also, my LDL levels ("bad cholesterol") went up just slightly, despite the good news of my other numbers finally fitting into normal range. I say this to show you a real picture of my health and not a "Whole 30 fixes ALL!" fabrication.

Overall, I am happy with my results, though. Whole 30 did what it was supposed to do (fix my triglycerides) and then some (fix my sleep, my "good cholesterol", my thyroid, and my health in general). Jesus is my strength and healer and savior, not a particular doctor or lifestyle change or food or medicine. So while I will advocate for anyone to try this eating plan for 30 days because I truly believe it will improve anyone's health, Whole 30 will not fix every problem that you have. Namely, it will not fix your spiritual problem of being separated from God. That is for Jesus, our Savior, to do.

If you'd like to chat more about Whole 30 or are thinking of trying the program for yourself, email me! I would love to share more with you.

Here's to Being a Mrs.

It's been exactly 8 months 1 week and 3 days since my last blog post. My hiatus wasn't intentional and it also wasn't something that went unnoticed. Actually, I've attempted to write posts since then, most of which I either never finished or never actually pressed the "publish" button. I guess some might say I've had writer's block, but it feels a bit more complex than that.

How can I write when I have both nothing to say and everything to say simultaneously? How can I write when everything in my life is different and yet everything is pretty much still the same? Where do I start? Where do I end?

It's like when I'm asked the oh so familiar, "How's married life?" question. Well, sir, I just don't know how to answer you. You see, I've been married now for a little over four months and my mind and heart and days are buzzing with thoughts and feelings and tasks that I never even knew existed (or at least had never experienced before). And while it's wonderful and fun and so very delightful, it's also hard and a lot of work and I'm learning things about myself, things that sometimes feel a bit dark and (to be honest) a bit scary. But I guess it's best to have that sin deep inside of me uprooted and shown for what it really is than to live in ignorance, never really experiencing true freedom. So I'm grateful to marriage for that. And I'm grateful to marriage for all of the gooey warm feelings, too. And sure, time commitments are a bit more challenging, but I also get to live with my best friend now and that's pretty great. And...

Truth is, I sound like a rambling idiot. Truth is, no one really wants to hear that answer. So I smile and exclaim, "Marriage is great!" And I move on to the next question from the next person, worded a bit differently, but at its core is really just the same.

As you can see, I haven't written because even though I have a million thoughts, I'm not exactly sure what to say. These days, my thoughts tend to ramble and my heart tends to feel 10,000 emotions every day.

Married life is very different than single life. Actually, married life is much more different than I ever thought it would be from the single life. My hopes, dreams, actions and my past, present, and future are no longer my own. I am fully known and fully loved by another, despite my shortcomings and sin, which is truly a remarkable thing. All of that is very difficult to fully wrap my head around. I don't think one is better than the other, married life from single life, they are just very different, and it takes some time to adjust.

Marriage has brought change to almost every area of my life. I'm living with a permanent roommate (my husband) and learning how to share everything I own with someone else. I'm learning how much bills and taxes actually cost and I'm living in a different town and in a different state. I'm a part of a new family with new traditions, new ethnic backgrounds, and new faces to love. I also have a new last name, which is a daily reminder that my life is new, that my whole self now belongs to another.

The piece I'm pretty sure will take me a bit longer to fully grasp is the fact that there is now a "Mrs." before my name. Mrs. Oh, that's strange. But I guess we're all growing up. I guess that's what everyone talks about when they mention how fast life flies by because it feels like it was just yesterday that I was in high school, going to swim practices and play rehearsals. Now all of a sudden I'm a Mrs. and I have doctors that are around the same age as me and I'm beginning to plan for a life with children. I'm suddenly at the life stage where I relate more to the parents in sitcoms than to the teenagers in them, and I'm not quite sure when that shift happened.

Yet, I'm still me. I still go to the same church and have the same job. I still hang out with the same friends and have the same hobbies and passions. I still laugh at (and tell) the same jokes and I still cry over the same movies.

Not knowing how to reconcile all of that, I decided to just cut my hair, which is eight inches shorter with bangs now because, well, that's what girls do when we don't know what else to do. It was the only thing I could think of doing to help the pieces fit all together in my mind. Now when I look into the mirror, I see the same person, but I look completely different. I see the old and new merging into one complete reflection--not broken or confused, just different. I still see me, it's just a new me.

My husband keeps saying, "We're not the same people that we were 4 or 5 months ago," and it's true. Marriage requires you to grow and change and mature, to make decisions based on another person and not on yourself. Marriage teaches you to love and care, even when you don't really feel like it. And I've found that though I'm still the same person, I am very much a completely different person too, one that I hope is more like Christ.

So there you have it. I haven't blogged, not because I'm lazy or apathetic or too busy, but because I haven't known where to start. Because I feel like in the past 8 months, 1 week, and 3 days everything has changed and yet nothing has changed at the same time.

But I think I'll start right here, right in the middle of the ramblings, right in the middle of my over-stimulated, glowingly newly-wed, fragile thoughts and feelings.

Life is good. Life is hard. Life is much more complex than I ever imagined.

But it's rich and wonderful and as I press forward in my relationship with God and in my relationship with my husband, I find that I wouldn't want it any other way.

So here's to marriage and new schedules and new traditions. Here's to being in love and committing to grow with and for another. Here's to new haircuts on old faces. Here's to being a Mrs.

six years ago and four months from now

My mother died six years ago today.

I remember that week clearly.  I remember the things I saw and the emotions I felt, ones that no eighteen-year-old should ever have to experience.  It was in those four days of caring for her when the hospice care fell through that I realized the brokenness of this world that we live in more tangibly than any other time.

About twenty minutes after she passed, I moved into another room with my sister and my friend and random thoughts were buzzing through my brain at light-speed.  Two of those thoughts stuck out sharply and I never forgot them.  One was that from here on out, I knew that I would always have a difficult time on March 26th.  The other was that my wedding day will be spotted with the heartbreak of wishing she were there.

It's interesting that I even thought of my wedding day in that moment, since I've been convinced most of my life that I would never get married.  But I think the Lord was speaking to me even then, in the same way that He was speaking to me about marriage before I ever even met Danny.

And here I am, six years older, with a loving fiancé whom I will walk down the aisle to in a white dress four months from today.

That's right.  Four month's from today.  This anniversary of the worst day of my life is speckled with hope and excitement of the future.  But that's what we always find in life, don't we?  Mourning alongside of celebration, goodbyes alongside of hellos.  The dark canvas of this broken world somehow looks full of hope when you notice the grace of God, bright and inviting.

Isaac brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he married Rebekah.  So she became his wife, and he loved her; and Isaac was comforted after his mother's death -- Genesis 24:67

I am grateful that God chose for these dates to align, grateful that He is lovingly beckoning me into a new life stage that is filled with eager anticipation.  I love that my God knows how to comfort His daughter, and gives her gentle people to ease the pain of the past.  I am grateful that He gave me a soon-to-be husband who taught me how to love again and broke down the walls I put up after my mom died.

But it is hard.  And I miss her.  And I know that on the day when I say, "I do," I'll be wishing it were my father and mother presenting me at the altar.

I wish she were here for the craziness of wedding planning, that is for sure.  But more than that, I wish she were here as I prepare to become someone's wife.  I wish she were here for me to ask her all of my questions about what that role is like.

I wish she were here as Danny and I dream about our family down the road and what it will be like to be parents.  I wish she were here to tell me all about pregnancy and motherhood and the joys and pains that come with it.

I long for my mama to be here as I enter this new chapter of my life.  I long for the one who read me bedtime stories and bandaged up my scraped knees, the one who comforted me when I was bullied in middle school and dealt with all of my teen angst.  I wish I could go to the one who was there for the insight and guidance that I need, the one who raised me and loved me despite my flaws.

I wish my mom had met Danny, and that he had met her.  I wish she were here to laugh with me about how similar Danny and my dad are, and how similar she and I are now that I'm an adult, and how similar our marriages will probably look.

I miss my mama, in a new way than before.  In this new life stage, the heartbreak of missing her hurts different than before.  It's not worse or less painful, just different.

I smile when they tell me I'm like you, Mama.  Do you know that?  I'm proud when I notice that in many ways I'm a little version of you, because I think you were pretty great.  And I hope to be a loving wife like you, and a sweet, caring, dedicated mama like you were.

I will tell my children all about you.  I will tell them how their grandmother loved the beach and that's why I decided to have a beach wedding.  I will tell them how she loved detective things and will teach them to play Clue and read them mystery novels.  I will introduce them to all of the classic Broadway musicals and sing my heart out with them around the house.

You'd like Danny, Mama.  You'd be so happy that God brought me a man who loves me and cares for me and knows how to calm me down when I'm stressed over my busy schedule (that much hasn't changed...).  You'd like how he fits right into the family and how his family deeply cares for me.  You'd like how smart he is and gentle he is and how sweet he is to Kirsten.  You'd like how he and Dad geek out over their computer programming world together.

You'd like how he cares for me like you used to.

Thanks for always being there.  Thanks for being the best mama in the world.  I hope that one day, my kids will look back and say the same things about me that I say about you.

I love you, Mom.

NYE and Noisemakers and Celebrating

I found myself standing in a crowded living room, counting down the final ten seconds of 2014 while holding onto my fiancé(!) tightly and looking around at all of my smiling (and screaming) college friends.

Life is that moment was good.

The past month was a whirlwind of activity and my life as I knew it was also forever changed. The man of my dreams (and my very best friend) asked me to marry him. My cousin, who was raised almost like a big sister to me, had her first baby and I got to hold precious little Avery in my arms as we welcomed her into the world. We had THREE(!) Christmases due to two families now and tiny Avery being born on Christmas Day. We watched as handfuls of friends also got engaged and we celebrated the anticipation of our new lives right alongside of them. I traveled multiple times between a staff training, half of Christmas week at my soon-to-be in-laws, and a vacation to celebrate the New Year in Delaware.

To ring in 2015, eight of us Mary Washington InterVarsity friends and two of our now fiancés decided to rent a house by the beach. In those four days of cooking and cleaning, laughing and dancing, playing Settlers and other games, watching movies, talking, having group manuscript bible studies, chopping wood and making fires, I was reminded that this group would always feel like family to me.

After a year of not seeing these sweet college friends and after a lifetime of believing the lies that I would never be "good enough" for marriage, there was a part of me that still couldn't believe this was my life--in real time--as I stood in that living room on New Year's Eve. As the ball dropped and I kissed my fiancé and cheers-ed my friends and blew my noisemaker as obnoxiously as possible, I was celebrating more than a new date. I was celebrating the culmination of a really great year.

2014, you were a good. I saw my dad come to know Jesus in a real way and grow exponentially in his walk. I said "yes" to a new position within InterVarsity at TCNJ and have learned and grown tremendously from it so far. I met and became engaged to the man that I've decided to spend the rest of my life with, a man that God crafted as more perfect for me than I could ever even dream up myself.

In that moment, I was celebrating freedom and new life, friendship and love. I was celebrating how God really does the miraculous, how He holds friendships together over time and distance, how He can take the most stubborn and broken woman and make her ready to be someone's wife.

My heart at the end of 2014 was full of sweet bliss. God can do amazing things, more than we'll ever ask for or imagine.

And I am excited for what God has in store for 2015. I'm getting married this year!!! (Those are words that I still can't believe I'm writing.)

So here's to 2014. You were good to us. But, 2015, we welcome you with open arms and an eager expectation for what's to come.

our new year's week crew

(and it's okay.)

I was sitting on the couch, his arms around me, sinking into his frame that's begun to carry a sense of home. I have found safety here, comfort in this place. We weren't saying anything of much importance, just the typical back and forth of two extroverts who are up way past their bedtimes. Sometimes we would cease speaking all together, and I would notice that in the silence and the closeness, I could hear the rhythm of his heart. In that moment, I realized that I couldn't remember the last time I heard someone's heartbeat. I couldn't remember the last time I let someone close enough to even hug me, pushing away any attempt that my friends and family would make at physical touch.

I'm learning that it's okay to let someone be close.

I said some very typical and blunt Alyssa-y comment and he rolled his eyes laughing and pulled me closer. In that moment, the familiar strong-willed leader inside of me clashed with this foreign desire to let someone else lead the way, and I was surprised at how beautiful those contradictions felt. The clashing didn't spark, didn't explode, but those oppositions melded with each other, complementary colors on the wheel.

I'm learning that submission isn't a bad thing at all for this campus minister, but it's the Creator's most perfect way.

No matter where we are or what we're doing, when I look him in the eyes I'm met with a gaze that says "I care about you, and I love you, and I'm not going anywhere." That, for me, is different. But that look is also easy to give and receive when butterflies are fluttering or when I'm laughing so hard that tears roll down my face. What about when we're angry? What about when one (or both) of us are in need of forgiveness?

During our biggest disagreement, I remember storming past him flaunting my typical "I'm passive-aggressive but I want you to know I'm extremely unhappy" response. And when I turned around to see how he'd react to my craziness, his eyes reflected back the same look that I've come to know so well, filled with so much grace and care, and he calmly reminded me that he loved me.

I am learning that no matter how I'm acting, I am loved for who I am, not for what I do or how I behave or even how I'm thinking in the moment.

It's okay to make myself known, to let someone in on all of the broken pieces of myself as well as all of the parts that I like. I am learning that when God is center, there lies true grace and joy and forgiveness and love. When Christ is the foundation, that look in his eyes is unchanging, and "I love you" is based off of a commitment, not a feeling. Jesus is freeing me from the fear of letting people in, of making myself known, of giving another imperfect person permission to unintentionally hurt me (and vice versa) as we both seek to grow in holiness and grace. And, oh, after years of fearing to let people in, there is rest in allowing someone else to see the whole of me.

I am learning that it's okay to just let go.

God is teaching me about the greatest part of His character: His love. Though I still don't grasp it fully, I understand His love more now than I ever have before, and I want to know it more. For if a grace and comfort can be found in the love of a person, how much more can they be found in the love of the One who is Love?

To be close enough to hear His heartbeat, to call His arms home, that is what I long for. God, as I'm learning to know and be known, would You use it to always point me back to You, the only One who loves perfectly.

confessions of a campus minister

My most honest confession? I often take my eyes off of Jesus.

Wind and waves surrounding me,

I notice my feet going under.

When the tasks are many before me,

And I yearn for man's approval more than I do for God's,

And the pressure pushes in from all sides,

     I lose sight of the vision,

        of the calling,

        of Spirit with and in me.

I forget that it was Jesus who said, "Come," before my feet even left the boat. [Matt 14:29]

And in my panic of "DO SOMETHING!" He gently asks me once again why I let my faith in His word, His power, His calling become so small.

My eyes aren't always on Jesus.

And when they're not, I grow afraid of the very waters that I asked Him to allow me to walk upon.

Truly, I am grateful for His hand repeatedly lifting me out of my panic,

     Lavishing me with a grace that I most assuredly don't deserve.

     Restoring these averted eyes to their proper gaze.

I am reminded that He has this too under control.

And that He cares about my walk on these deep waters.

     This walk that we journey together,

     Father, Son, Spirit, and me.

the grace that's all around

I'm sitting on my back deck, in perfect ~80 degree weather, watching the sun get progressively lower in the sky. During the morning hours I read and went on a run, in the afternoon I painted while listening to worship music, and tonight some friends are coming over to manuscript a bible passage.  Today was a day that I sensed the Spirit inviting me to stop and breathe and be.

My to-do list is still very long.

My anxiety over New Student Outreach approaching is still very high.

There are still emails to send and students to meet with and books to read and talks to write.

But I'm learning that in this career of full time ministry, it's easy to always be busy because the work never actually ends.  I'm learning that in order for me to be effective for the Kingdom, I need space to be filled up.

So today, I said "yes" to God giving me that space.

Space in solitude.  Space with Jesus.  Space to breathe now that the swim season has ended and before NSO begins.  Space to sleep and recover from the sickness that dragged my body down over the past few days.

And in this moment, I'm very much aware of the grace that's all around.  There is grace in the cool summer breeze, grace in the sound of cicadas, grace in the view that I have in this backyard, grace in the fact that for the very first time this summer I actually don't feel tired.

It's easy to see grace in the slower rhythms.

I think that in the whirlwind of this summer, on most fast-paced days I missed the grace that was all around.  I would squint and have trouble seeing it, but it was there, abounding.  Because there was grace in every "ready, go!" I shouted to my swimmers on the wall, grace in those afternoons we got caught in the rain on the pool deck, grace in the traffic jams I sat in on Staten Island when I just wanted to be home and asleep, grace in the office work that left me yearning for human interaction.

I learned (the hard way, I think) of my need to notice His grace in any rhythm, not just the slow ones.

This year is going to be full, of ministry and responsibility and intentionality.  But I think that there is an invitation there for it to also be full of love and joy and peace, despite a busy schedule or circumstances that are out of my control.

I think there's an invitation to be aware of Him, always, because He's the only one who wholly fills and loves.  Oh, to practice the presence of God.  This summer taught me that I'm not as good at it as I once thought.

But there is forgiveness and mercy and grace and the opportunity to start again, right now.  The choice to notice, to celebrate, to love, to play.  And I think that these four things are always available, even in the hard or the long days, because they are all a grace given by Him.

Spirit, be so present around me. (& in me.)

Let me be so aware of You that You seem tangible in any moment.

Let my life be lived into and out of Your grace, in every season and every rhythm.

daring to dream

When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion,

     we were like those who dreamed.

Our mouths were filled with laughter,

     our tongues with songs of joy.

Then it was said among the nations,

     "The LORD has done great things for them."

The LORD has done great things for us,

     and we are filled with joy.

[Psalm 126:1-3]

I was afraid to dream over this past year.

More accurately, I was afraid to dream with God over this past year.
In tears, I'd pray, knowing that it was He who had awakened these desires within me.
And I'd ask for any solution to the emptiness that I faced each day.

I was afraid to dream because I was afraid to speak the words of what I really wanted.
So I sat in those secret places of my heart, quietly dreaming with myself,
     Not letting the images get too bright, too noisy,
     For fear of them being so loud that God could hear.

Because the truth is,
I was afraid to invite Him into those dreams,
     afraid His response would be a "no."

But that,
That was foolish thinking.
Because every moment that I thought I was dreaming alone,
I was actually dreaming right alongside of Him anyway.
And those dreams (I believe)
     were put there by Him to begin with.
every. last. detail.

And the thing is with God,
     He is good.
     And He delights in this daughter of His.
     And He is the Giver of good gifts.

In just one short week, everything changed.
And a whisper from the Holy Spirit told me that everything was going to be different.

I know this now,
     because I'm living that dream.
          every. last. detail.
And the really crazy part?
     (we both are.)

The degree to which God answered my year-long prayers over the past two months is so crazy,
So unreal,
That I have to keep reminding myself that this actually is reality.
That I'm not going to just wake up from it because I'm living it.

"Goodnight. And this isn't a dream, so I'll talk to you tomorrow," he reminded me.

This isn't a dream.
This isn't a dream.
This is real. Every word, every look, every feeling.
This is real.

Our God is good.
He answers prayer.
And He is crafting my story into something beautiful.
     (Something for His glory.)
Mending the brokenness that once felt so unfixable.

We don't know the ending yet,
     (and that's okay).
Because in this moment, there is peace.
     There is healing.
     There is joy.
And there is the unwavering knowledge that the Spirit is right here in the thick of it,
     directing and loving and leading, just like He always does,
His presence reminding us that we are His.
And that He is surely writing this chapter with all the care and affection of a good Daddy,
     who still smiles and reminds that He is always redeeming,
     always protecting, always gently guiding, always restoring.

It's okay, My child, He tells me, Jump in. Let go. For I am here. And I am making all things new.

the thick empty

Most of the time recently, I've been so aware of the silence, of the thick empty.  I can hear my heartbeat echoing throughout the stillness, reminding me of the longings that aren't met (today).

And I'm angry, and I'm sad.

(Unsettled, fidgeting in my seat.)

Most of the time recently, I've found myself drenched in tears, questioning His love and faithfulness and goodness.

But I know that regardless of my feelings, regardless of the sadness and the loneliness and the pain that pierces through this thick empty, He is so abundantly good.

And that THIS (right here, right now), this very moment in time, THIS is His best for me in the now.

But that part,

(If I'm being honest)

That's the part that is sometimes so very hard for this little heart of mine to fully grasp.

My prayers over the last few months have been to live into and out of this now, this best that He offers me today.  To stop looking back and stop yearning for more--for something in the future--but to live in the here and now.

To be present in the moment,

With an increased awareness of my God.

The tears still come as these unfulfilled longings piece my heart.  The pain is still real and the desires are still present and I still pray that there would be some other ending to this story, some other outcome.

But for now, I will choose to live in the fullness of this very moment.  I will choose to press into Jesus, to allow Him to fill every crevice that looks and feels (and is) so very empty.

The invitation today (and every day) is to know Him deeper, as Lover and Friend and Comforter and so much more.

And though I would choose a different story for this season, I know that He is a better Author than I.  I know that His plans transcend mine because He is good and sovereign and loving.

And I can trust Him to fill the thick empty with Himself,

To illuminate His presence in the loneliness.

To comfort and grow this little heart of mine.

Explosion in Mountain View

There have been news choppers circling my neighborhood for almost nine hours.  It's dark and late and though I want to sleep, the rhythms of this helicopter coming in and going out stir my heart awake.

You never think that something like this would happen in the place that you call home.

Today around 1pm, there was a violent gas explosion on the street that runs parallel to mine, obliterating one home, completely destroying ten houses and damaging many others, injuring seven workers, and killing one person.  From where my house sits, this site (that looks much like a mini Ground Zero) is visible from my window, directly behind the houses that are across the street from me.

The explosion only caused (very) minor damage to my house and it felt rather odd to be welcomed home by numerous news station vans at the end of my driveway.

But as the hours have ticked on today, the eeriness of it moved from surreal to sickening.  The devastation of it all hit me little by little.  My body felt tense as I turned on the television and watched an interview of a childhood friend who lives across the street from me explain what the explosion felt like and then another childhood friend telling about the injuries he received as the explosion knocked him over.  The weirdest interview I watched was of my next-door neighbor because my house was in the background of the camera shot.  I froze in horror as I watched a dog find the dead body in the rubble on live television and my heart sank even more when later in the night I stood up and looked out my window and saw the lights and the huge crane illuminating the darkness of the night.

I'm not sure why I feel so shaken up, especially because my life and my loved ones lives weren't effected.  But as I watched clip after clip of families running through the grass onto my street, as I watched these people trace the same pathway I would take as a high schooler walking home from my friends' houses, my stomach knotted up inside.

It looks like a war zone over here in Mountain View.  There are emergency vehicles and news casters everywhere.  The firehouse is full of people without homes for the night and my heart breaks every time I look at images of the aftermath.

In all of this uncertainty ("I can't believe this happened here" and "Could this same gas explosion happen tomorrow in my house?") I am certain of one thing:  The love of God is so thick and real and immense.  And this Love pierces through any pain and darkness and fright.

Jesus is present in the midst of the suffering.  He is with the families grieving and the families without homes.  He is with the frightened and the workers who were injured and their friends and families.

He is right there in the rubble.
Right there in the middle of it.

He isn't a far off God who will try to fix this.  He isn't a God that doesn't notice and doesn't care.  He is present and He is there with the brokenhearted and the afraid.  He is present in the debris.

It seemed appropriate to me that most of the damage in my house was nail damage to the framework and ceilings (other than a poor decapitated wooden duck that fell off of a wall somewhere) when the damage done to my Savior was also nail damage.  And when I look up at the holes that now dot my ceiling from where these nails were shaken by the brute force, I am reminded of the holes from the nails that pierced His hands and feet.

He is here, I know it.  Despite the eeriness of the news chopper breaking through the silence of the night, He is here.  In my neighborhood, in the firehouse, with the brokenhearted, in the rubble, He is here.

He is God.
He is Love.
And He is making all things new.

I am confident that this God of death and resurrection will bring Life to this rubble.  He will bring Life to this tragedy and resurrect it for His purposes because He cares and loves and pursues and restores.  He will create beauty from the mess.  I know this because it's His nature.  I know this because I know Him.

He doesn't just pick up the broken pieces, but He sits in them as the crane sifts through the rubble.  He is present in the middle of the heartache.  The explosion was strong, but His love is stronger still.  The damage is immense, but His love is greater.  The road to healing and recovery and restoration is long, but He walks it with us.

[Listen over the helicopter.  Do you hear Him?  He is here.]

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit. [Psalm 34:18]

If someone is reading this that was personally effected, know that I am so sorry and my heart breaks for you and I am praying for you.  But also know that there is a God who loves you and is there with you and desires for you to know Him.  Also, my church would love to help you in any way possible so feel free to visit ccmercer.com or email connecting@ccmercer.com

Life.

Life.
That's how I can sum up all that I've been thinking and feeling and experiencing and reflecting on lately.

There is Life in the laughter,
   Life in the tears.

To know Life in the deepest of heartaches,
   Life in the mundane,
   and Life in the jubilation,
is perhaps the greatest invitation to us ever given on this side of heaven.

To walk with Him in all things,
to really know He is present when my heart is breaking and when my heart is celebrating,
is to experience true humanness, to be as I was designed to be.

Life.
Always.
[Because there is Life in Him.]

Sometimes my heart is completely overwhelmed,
   by this Life,
   by this Love,
   by His relentless pursuit,
because I am so undeserving.

And regardless of how often I stumble or fall,
He. loves. me.

With a love powerful enough to pierce through the darkness,
a love powerful enough to transform a darkened heart,
a love powerful enough to break the chains that once held me bound.

I'm overwhelmed because that kind of Love is indescribable,
that kind of love is the only kind with the ability to transform,
   to produce growth,
   to soften a heart.

So today, this mix of emotions feels overwhelming,
   [in a good way.]
because this Life that I'm invited into is better than anything I've ever known.

these growing roots.

"Man cannot live on bread alone, but on every word that comes from the mouth of God."

I opened my eyes and stood straight, pushing away from the wall that I was leaning against as if I were the seeker counting in hide-and-seek.  Jesus had spoken; that much was evident.  And those words hung in the deepest parts of me for longer than I had anticipated.

This morning, two days after this interaction between us, a thought hit me:  The things I cared so much about six months ago are not as high priority in my life anymore.

Some of those things (actually, most of those things) are, at their core, good.  And I still desire them, but they are no longer the focus for me.

I could write a list for you about what those things are, but I think that would be besides the point.  The point is that those things--the bread of this world--aren't my focus anymore.  And though good, I never want them to be the focus again.

Because those things aren't Jesus.

One by one and little by little--so slow I wouldn't have even noticed if I hadn't taken the morning to reflect--they each faded into the background of my life as Jesus was illuminated more and more.

As I became more rooted in Him, as He alone became the only thing that I was running after, everything else stopped screaming for my attention.

I think, maybe, that's a piece of what the Spirit-led life is all about.  It's about being so fixed on Him that one day you finally understand that He alone satisfies, that man cannot live on bread alone because even though you eat it today, you will hunger again tomorrow.  I'm not sure I'm always there 100% of the time because I still fall into the trap that other things--even good things--can satisfy me, but I'd like to think that I'm moving and that these roots are growing and that I'm farther along on the journey than I was six months ago.

I'm not sure what the bread is for you, what the thing is that you are tempted to have more than Jesus--maybe it's friends or marriage or success or fun or wisdom or strength or gentleness.  But those things have to come second.  (Actually, some of those things are only produced from our intimacy with Jesus and thus naturally come second anyway.)

The thing is, the bread isn't bad.  It is, at it's core, good for us.  But we have to understand at a heart level that this bread will never satisfy.  That when we live our lives in pursuit of things--even good things--other than Jesus, we will always find ourselves to be insatiable.

No amount of bread and no type of bread will ever satisfy.  The things of this world will always leave you hungry again.  But Jesus does.

He lives in me and walks with me and when I spend my days aware of Him and in step with Him, the insatiable becomes satiated.

When rooted in Him, I am satisfied to the full.

He [alone] resurrects.

Last night, in an attempt to spend some intentional time with Jesus, I coerced my friend into painting her prayers with me.  I needed to create space, to listen and be still and rest.  After eight nights of continuous sleepovers (and let me add that half of those nights there was a crowd of women sleeping over due to a wedding and a New Year's party) and little alone time to hear from God, my soul was thirsty, panting, my arms reaching out franticly to touch Him.

And so I gave my friend a quick demo of how to paint, handed her the supplies, and turned on the worship music.  I barely spoke, other than my exchanges with Jesus and for me, this space was exactly what I needed.  I began throwing colors on the white sheet, pinks and greens and yellows, celebrating the new life that I've seen in my walk with Him over the past few months.  Something broke open within me this semester, and I was creating a painting to represent that.

After awhile, I felt like the piece was done and I sat back to look at it.  Though I was sure it was finished, it didn't look quite right.  I added more yellow, but that wasn't it, something was off.  I crossed my arms, frustrated, my eyebrows furrowed in thought.

[how I intended it to go]

It just didn't feel right.

I flipped the painting upside down and stopped.  It's supposed to go this way.

But God, I insisted, that isn't how I created it to go.  I was painting a picture of the Life that broke open within me this semester, remember?  If the piece is turned upside down it looks like… well… it looks like You shining down into some sort of messiness, not me bursting open, growing closer to You.

Ah but My child, He replied softly, you are mistaken.  The intimacy you have with Me didn't increase because you figured out how to listen or because you discovered new tools.  You burst open because I resurrected dead areas in your life.  I am the initiator.  New Life always starts with Me.

[how He intended it to go]

With the painting turned upside down (or I suppose it was right side up to God) it felt brighter.  I've never taken an art class, and so I can't explain to you scientifically what it does to the eye to have the brighter colors on top and the darker colors on the bottom.  I don't know how (neurologically) this makes the art appear lighter.

But I do know that there is something brighter about knowing that my God is the initiator, about knowing that I don't grow to Him but that He reaches down to me, about knowing that there is a resurrection hope amid any lifeless mess.

There was, it appeared, a theology lesson present for me in the midst of my play.  That, I think, is what art has become for me: a space to learn and re-learn the Truths about our great God, a space to create with our Creator, a space to breathe and rest and interact with Him, a space to know and be known.

[a space for Father, Son, Spirit, and me.]

birthing the new

This Christmas, I've been thinking a lot about Mary's side of the story.  This Christmas, my heart has resonated with this woman who chose to say "yes" to God's calling on her life.

Usually when I think of Mary, I reflect on God's interruption in her life.  I think of how she was probably trembling in fear when she said "yes," knowing that she could have been stoned for being pregnant outside of wedlock, knowing that her side of the story must have sounded crazy to the people she told it to ("Mom and Dad, I'm pregnant by the Holy Spirit, really!"), knowing that she alone was responsible for carrying God in her belly (talk about the desire to suddenly eat healthy and get fit).

But this Christmas, I've been pondering what it means that she said "yes" to God and that He was birthed in her.

Christmas was a new beginning for Mary, a new beginning of motherhood, of marriage, and of this new ministry calling on her life.  Christmas was also the new beginning for humanity because Jesus, as the new Adam, created hope and justification where there was once separation and condemnation.

This Christmas, I've been pondering the new thing that Jesus wants to birth in me.

For nine months, Jesus grew in Mary.  For nine months, she was "that girl" who was pregnant outside of wedlock.  For nine months, she (probably) had morning sickness alongside of worries about caring for this infant who was the Word made flesh.  We sing the lyrics, "silent night, holy night," but I am sure that this night we sing so softly about was anything but silent for Mary, lest we forget that she was in labor without any pain meds, surrounded by livestock instead of doctors.

Mary birthed Jesus.  Think about those words.  "For to us a child is born."  We repeat that verse every year, but we forget what those words mean.  Birthing this child involved nine long months of waiting, a terrible night of delivery during which not one person was nice enough to let them into an actual home, and all of the sleepless nights of infancy that (especially first time) parents endure.

Birthing new things isn't always an overnight process and isn't always pain-free.  Birthing new things involves repeatedly saying "yes" to whatever it is that God is asking of you.

But a life of walking in step with the Spirit--wherever that may lead you--is an abundant life, full of joy and freedom and peace.  After Mary (immediately, might I add) agreed to God's will being done in her, she sang a song of praise to Him (Luke 1:46-55).  Though Mary's decisions to follow God weren't always easy, they resulted in her living a life of celebration and praise, having a joy that is only explained by being in a relationship with God.

God was inside of Mary for nine months and, if you are a believer, He is in you now.  I think there's something to that.  Just like God wanted a little baby to grow in a teenage girl, He wants to grow new things in you and me.  Mary said "yes" to God.  The question for us is: Will we?  The Christian walk and the responsibility that comes with listening to the Holy Spirit--a responsibility to not just hear but do what He's asking of you--though not always easy, is the path to true Life.

Christmas for Mary was pregnancy and delivery and the start of sleepless nights.  But Christmas was also when she grew in her intimacy with God and when she celebrated that He found her worthy of this call.  The birth of this child was not only a new beginning for these parents, but a new beginning for all of mankind.  Mary's decision effected many others, for generations to come.  Likewise, our decisions as believers effect more people than I think we sometimes realize.  We have the opportunity to not just grow as disciples of Christ, but to impact a dark world around us, simply by living a life of saying "yes" to God.

Let us live in Christmas, always.  Let us continuously say, "yes" to God's calling to birth new things in us, even if it hurts in the process, because the end result always leads us to deeper intimacy with Him and always forms us to be more like His Son.

The life He has for us is the best life.  We can converse with Him about dreams and plans and callings, but when it comes down to it we have to ask ourselves: What is my response?  Will I allow Him to birth new things in me?  Will I say "yes" to this task He has asked me to do?  Will I live a life of intimacy with Christ and listen and act on what He's calling me to do?

The abundant Life is in Him, just taste and see.

ministry partners

There is something about writing thank you cards to ministry partners that makes my heart melt.

With every new card, I am able to sit and reflect and pray.  I remember the ways that this person has taught me what it looks like to honor God with my money and time and what it looks like to pray for those around me.  Without knowing it, this person has discipled me when it comes to my own tithes and offerings and when it comes to my own intercession for others.  Usually when I'm writing these cards, moments come to mind of when they've prayed for me during a spiritual attack or given me advice and encouragement when I felt overwhelmed by being a missionary.  These names aren't donors or prayer warriors, they are partners, in every sense of that term.  I wouldn't be able to fight this spiritual battle without their prayers and I wouldn't be on campus without their financial support.  Their partnership plays a direct role in the transformation on campus.  As I think about all of the students who I've seen cross from darkness to light this year, all of the students who have grown in boldness in their leadership, all of the students who have broken strongholds, all of the students who are learning to recognize the voice of the Lord, I know that none of these significant Kingdom stories would happen without the support of these dear friends.

These friendships are some of the sweetest I'll ever know.  Some live in my town and some live literally in another country, but we are all doing ministry together.  We are all on this team, praying and giving time or money or energy to see The College of New Jersey transformed.  The reality of ministry partnership connects me with these friends at a much more intimate level than Facebook or Skype or texting ever could; we are connected in Kingdom work.

Whether they are monthly donors or one-time givers or prayerful intercessors or volunteers or a mix of those four, these friends are all my partners.  They are all on my team.

With every card, I reflect on the way that this person has impacted me and my walk and the way that this person has impacted the ministry at TCNJ.  I reflect on the campus stories that have happened as a result of this person's partnership.

And every few minutes, I pause to sing along with the worship songs that I have playing on Pandora in the background.  I sing praises to our God because it is He that ultimately draws all of these students to Himself.  It is He who is renewing the campus and developing world changers.  And it is He who has drawn me and these ministry partners together to have a heart for this campus.  I am grateful that He is moving in all of our lives.

And I am so grateful for each of these friends.

As I sign my name on each card, I pray over these friends, asking the Lord to bless each and every one of them, just like they've blessed me.

I'm not alone on this campus.  I have an army of friends on this team, fighting for me.  They love me and they've grown me in ways that they'll never even realize.

So I look forward to writing these cards because doing so gives me space to reflect.  My words to them will never be enough, they will never show the depths to which I am thankful, but they are something.  And I hope that with each "Thank you so much" they know what I am saying is, "Thank you for believing in me.  Thank you for fighting for me and interceding for me when I am too weak.  Thank you for reminding me of the vision when my heart feels burdened and overwhelmed.  Thank you for loving my students and eagerly asking for more stories of how they are growing.  Thank you for mourning over the lost and crying with joy over the redeemed.  I wish you could be there every day with me.  I wish you could be in the room when students pray to receive Jesus for the first time.  I wish you could be sitting at the table when freshmen jump up to invite random people in the student center to evangelistic events.  I wish you could be there when the leader I'm discipling turns to someone she barely knows who is crying and asks if she could pray for her.  I wish you could see His Kingdom coming to campus every day like I do, because you are just as much a part of this mission as I am.  You are just as much a part of this team.  You are impacting lives.  Students are graduating college with a renewed knowledge of who God is and with leadership abilities with which they will one day change the world.  Thank you because you played a part in this.  Thank you because you've opened doors and paved pathways to see transformation happen.  Thank you because you dream big with me for this campus and you help make those dreams become a reality."

I am grateful.  I am blessed.  And my heart is quite full.

To partner with this mission:
…you can join my team with financial support by visiting donate.intervarsity.org/support/Alyssa_Dembrowski
…you can join my team with prayer support by emailing alyssa.dembrowski@gmail.com
…any questions about partnering or to get together to hear more you can email alyssa.dembrowski@gmail.com

they inspire me

There is a stirring in my spirit when I see growth, a joy that overtakes me and causes me to want to jump up and down.  Both the green sprouts that come up out of the ground from newly planted seeds and the leaves that form on mature plants create excitement in me.  "Yes! His Kingdom come!" I want to shout.

It is a joy to walk alongside of so many people and watch as the Lord does a work in them.  Sometimes He uses me in their journey and sometimes I just get to sit back and watch these lives unfold before my very eyes.  But regardless of my involvement in their journey, I find my breath taken away as I am left in awe.  I become speechless from the stories, from the wisdom shared, from the love displayed, and from the acts that my friends step into right in front of me.

I love watching the newer believers in my life drink in the gospel every week, eyes wide and sparkling with the hope that the empty tomb offers.  They remind me that the basics of our faith--grace and new life and joy and love--are truly the most important part, that the resurrected King and His forgiveness and the power that His Spirit gives to all of His followers are more important than any of the nitty gritty pieces of theology I often find myself pondering.  They remind me that I need to constantly live out of the gospel and out of the transformative work of Jesus.  I love watching these sisters and brothers grasp biblical concepts for the first time and step into freedom from strongholds for the first time and engage in listening prayer for the first time.

And truly, nothing is more wonderful than watching my friends who have been walking with the Lord for decades get wow-ed by the Gospel all over again.  I love to hear their stories of stepping out in boldness, to watch as these strong men and women of God lovingly encourage the rest of us to have a missional-mindset, to be in the room as they welcome and love new-comers so well.

I count myself blessed to be invited into the lives of so many who exemplify the on-going work of the Spirit.  Their growth inspires me.  It reminds me to never stop living out of the beauty of the Gospel.  It encourages me to press deeper into the Life that He offers.

Thank you, friends, for opening up your hearts and sharing your lives with me.  Thank you for allowing God to continuously transform you.  Thank you for having a heartbeat that echoes the Kingdom of God.

Immanuel

I sat curled in a ball, weeping into a blanket, crying over the same thing that always gets to me.

After a conversation earlier in the day, I spent my afternoon in meetings, half of me present and half of me feeling like I could burst into tears any second.  6pm and the door to my house couldn't come fast enough.  And when I finally walked in that backdoor at the end of the day and made my way up into my room, I couldn't contain myself any longer as I collapsed on my bed, sobbing.

That was where I sat for an hour, blanket wet from tears by the time my eyes were dry, body shaking uncontrollably as if I had a fever.  I was one gross and snotty mess, "waterproof" mascara down my face, hair literally drenched with tears, my nose blocked up thanks to my inconvenient nose ring.  I wept so hard that I went to bed four hours earlier than my usual bedtime, body weak and head aching from the sadness.

I slept nine long hours and woke up well before dawn, surprised at how alert and content I was feeling. I made my way downstairs, brewed some coffee, and began to read Scripture like I always do.  During my morning quiet time, I realized that the night before I had spent that hour crying out to God.

That, for me, is different.
That, for me, is progress.

In between "I'm sorry's" and in between moments of long silences when all anyone would have been able to hear were my sobs, I must have said "Jesus" a hundred times.  Sometimes I found myself stating the obvious ("I'm just so sad") and sometimes I muttered out a few complete sentences to Him ("Let me just feel Your presence & let me just know You are here & teach me how to forgive myself"), but when no other words came, I just continued to say His name, sometimes adding a soft "please" at the end.  And always, I invited Him into the room.

It was honest and authentic and raw.  It wasn't an hour of eloquent prayer and it wasn't a time when I necessarily experienced any crazy supernatural encounters.  It was just me and my tears and my blanket and my God.  The room was still and the pain was real, but something was different.  I didn't feel the presence of God in some overwhelming fashion and I didn't feel any less sad and in that moment, if you had asked me, I probably would have said that I didn't feel any less alone.  But I realized in the morning that He had indeed been in the room, that I went from my typical place of sitting alone with my regret to inviting Jesus into it.

I realized that while I went to bed physically tired from crying and still sad and still hurting and my situation still very much the same in the morning, Jesus had been right there in the thick of it.  Because I invited Him in, because I cried out to Him, because I took the focus away from the pain of the situation and put it back on Him, I no longer felt debilitated by my sadness.

Immanuel, God with us.

And He is always with us.  He had always been there when I cried, I just had never chosen to engage Him before.  I would push Him away, too hurt and angry and ashamed and lost in my thoughts to know what it was I even wanted from Him.

But now I do:  His presence.

He is good.  He is faithful.  He is everything I need.  And as long as I remain in Him, no situation will ever been too over-bearing for this little heart of mine.

For this is what the LORD says…

"As a mother comforts her child,

so I will comfort you."

[Isaiah 66]

selah moments

I think that I've told this story a million times in a million different contexts, but it was so impacting to me that I must tell it again…

August, September, and October were going to be far busier than usual for our staff team at TCNJ.  And when October began approaching and I was a bit drained from the previous two months, the realization that the usual October lull wasn't going to come hit me.  Somewhere at the end of September, I turned to Robin and said, "Oh man. I just need to get through October. November can't come soon enough."

"Alyssa," She responded, "Life doesn't start in November.  Life is now."

This reminded me much of what Jesus said to me when I was in the Catskills for a few retreat days before NSO began in August.  "Alyssa," I heard Him say, "I am in the city just as much as I am in the mountains."  He isn't just present in the restful seasons, but He is present in the hustle and bustle of packed google calendars, too.

From that moment on, everything shifted in me.  My prayer changed from, "Lord, get me through October," to, "Lord, what are you inviting me into in this very moment?"

I began to make attempts at practicing the presence of God, of listening, of sensing Him in the room, and of inviting Him into all circumstances (even the really boring ones).  I began experiencing Him always.  I'm still growing in this and I still have much to learn, but my relationship with Him soared to new levels almost immediately.

Last night I was finally able to put words to it:  I am learning how to add selah moments to my life, always.

In the Psalms, selah was added after some verses with the intent of pausing and reflecting.  In my life, I began pausing and reflecting after even the little things, inviting Jesus into the situations I was in and asking Him what He thought about them.  A life of abiding began to captivate me and I wanted more of Him, more of His presence.  I couldn't get enough.  The more I experienced Him, the more my heart yearned for more--more Jesus, more Spirit, more of the Father.

And oh, how I experienced Him in October.  I carved out moments of selah.  I would drop what I was doing just to get down on my knees in sincere prayer and worship if I felt Him inviting me deeper into His presence.  And I chose time with Him over everyone else in October.  For an extrovert, it was strange that I felt like I had intentionally dropped off of the face of the earth (socially speaking) this month, but I knew that in a season thick of ministry and limited on time, I needed Him more than ever before, and so I prioritized Him in new ways.

On Friday, the calendar turned to November, and I have to admit that I've spent the last few days in a confused and almost somber state, mourning the loss of the October that I had once so dreaded.

A normal work flow is now underway.  My social life has started back up (I've hung out with.. gosh… 30 friends in the last three days?!… most of whom I haven't seen since August), which is a gift to this raging extrovert.  I am grateful for November, really I am.  But I loved October.  I loved it because I learned and grew so much in the simplicity of inviting Jesus into it.  It was a month of love and passion and newness and an opportunity to know Him more.

But life doesn't start during the next season that is unique and unlike daily life--be it on a peaceful retreat or in a busy, jam-packed week.  Life is now.  Life has always been now.  Life will always continue to be now when I choose to invite Him into it.  Selah.

Life is now when it's quiet.  Life is now when it's routine.  Life is now when it's busy.  Life is now in Christ.  Selah.

And the most wonderful piece is what Jesus talks about in John 15:  that abiding produces fruit.  The closer I remain to Him, the more I can hear His heartbeat, and the more my own heart begins to beat in rhythm with His.  I am morphing more into His image with eagerness and delight.  It feels good to sense growth in this sinful heart of mine, to watch the ugliness of it be made beautiful by His love.

And that's all I really yearn for these days, anyway: more awareness of Him in and with me, more of my heartbeat syncing in rhythm with His, more of this Kingdom reality, more heaven on earth.

And broken and ugly things just like us are stamped, "Excellent,"

With ink tapped in wells of divine veins.

-Lofty by Propoganda

The Rattles of New Life [and conversations on post retreat syndrome]

Son of man, can these bones live?

That's the question that's been echoing through most of my conversations lately, friends crying out to me that they feel far from God.  The common thread of spiritual deadness makes me keenly aware of the decaying stench that penetrates so many Christian circles, not due to any outright disobedience to Christ, but due to a lack of the pursuit of relationship with Him.

It's the same question I asked God time and time again when I was overcome with the stress and the busyness--and sometimes even the monotony--that daily life tends to bring.  I would find myself often frustrated when I would get on a spiritual high at retreats or conferences or mission trips and watch it fade after returning home, presenting myself more like Moses than Paul, watching the glory fade and not increase.

Sovereign LORD, you alone know.

I knew something was off, something wasn't adding up.  As a New Testament believer, these constant deaths and revivals seemed much too draining to be the abundant life that Jesus spoke about.

Dry bones, hear the word of the LORD!

The revelation that God is always speaking and that I needed to just listen opened up new doors for me.  It tended to the flame that was in my heart, creating a fire in me that became beautiful and untamed and all-consuming.  As I started making attempts at listening, I could hear.  As I started making attempts at noticing, I could see.  Suddenly, abiding became more of a tangible reality rather than some abstract concept that we preach sermons and write workbooks on.  He is speaking.  Do you hear Him?  And almost all at once I began experiencing the fruit of the Spirit overtaking me and sensing the heartbeat of God.  I began experiencing newness.  Mundane routines were transformed into Jesus adventures.  I began to feel alive in more places than just on retreats.

This is what the Sovereign LORD says to these bones: I will make breath enter you, and you will come to life. I will attach tendons to you and make flesh come upon you and cover you with skin. I will put breath in you, and you will come to life. Then you will know that I am the LORD.

In Ezekiel 37, the bones rattle and come together and grow tendons and skin, but there is no life present.  Part II involves the word being spoken again, and life is breathed into them.  We can give the appearance of being alive and actually be dead on the inside.  Having tendons and skin, while it might mean that you aren't dry bones anymore, doesn't mean that you are living in the abundant life that Jesus offers.

The bones rattle and receive breath after they hear the word.  Deadness becomes life when we hear Him speak and we chose to respond, but we won't hear Him unless we practice the art of listening.

So for those of you who were at The Big Event this past weekend (or those who also experience the comings and goings of retreat highs), listen up: You did not experience a Jesus high because you were at Lake Champion.  You experienced a Jesus high because you were constantly in Scripture, in prayer, and in fellowship with believers.

If you find ways to incorporate those things into your daily routine, you will experience abundant life all of the time, and not just on retreats and at conferences.

Here are some simple and tangible things you can do:
1.  Read Scripture.  Every day.  I don't care how busy your schedule is or what your major is.  Be in the Word every morning (~1 chapter a day) and don't leave your spot until you find an application for your life.  [And actually read through a book, don't just pop around aimlessly.]  His word is alive and active and He will speak to you through it.  You've never read Scripture before on your own and don't know where to start?  Great.  Try starting with Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John.
2.  Learn how to listen in prayer (rather than talk the whole time).  We are not a people who worship a far off god that we just "shoot prayer requests up to."  We are in an intimate relationship with a living God who dwells in and with us.  Speak and wait to hear.  Journaling can help you focus, so ask God a question and then write a response as He puts thoughts in your mind or pictures in your imagination.
3.  Get plugged in and pursue fellowship.  Join a small group.  Find community.
4.  As you go about your day, practice His presence by becoming more aware of Him in the room.  This might seem tricky at first, but the more you do it, the more natural it becomes.

He loves you and He offers you life--abundant life--that stretches beyond the walls of our worship services, weekly prayer meetings, and off-site retreats.  This life exceeds the limitations of our life stages and schedules and (even sometimes) our lack of close friends that live nearby.

Dare to experience Him always.  It will change you.  Forever.

[Speak.]

"My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me."

-Jesus

To follow Him has always been the invitation.

When Jesus first called His disciples He said, "Come, follow Me."  They left their homes, their families, and their careers to follow.  This initial story parallels our own lives, for those of us who have entered into a relationship with Him.

But the following didn't stop there.  The following continues, always, as we remain His sheep.

Jesus says that He knows these sheep, these followers.  And doesn't this verse also imply that the sheep must know Him?

The word "hear" [Greek = akouō] speaks of attending to what is being said and giving an ear to a teacher.  It is a choice.  The reality is, He is speaking all the time, and the invitation is to listen.  And when we decide to listen to Him, we grow to know Him more.

The call is to hear and thus to know Him, to have Him know us, and to follow.  When Jesus beckons us to come, it is not a one-time decision or even a once-every-six-months decision.  We joke in this Christian culture of experiencing "come to Jesus moments," but the invitation is not to come during a season of revelation or hardship or exponential growth.  The invitation is to follow.  Coming happens once or in scattered spurts.  Following happens with every step, every leap, every hobble, and even every crawl.

The invitation is to follow.

The invitation is to listen, because He is speaking.

The invitation is to know and be known.

The invitation is to go deeper,

     in this minute and in the next,

     abiding and praying without ceasing.

Let's stop separating the sacred from the secular.

Let's stop coming to Jesus only when we hear His voice screaming over our noisy lives.

Let's stop coming to Jesus only when we meet with Him in the morning.

Let's say "yes" to the invitation to live out of the Kingdom reality that we are so graciously offered,

     [on earth as it is in heaven].

Let's follow, not come,

     in step with the Spirit, every second of every day.

Let's hear His whispers as well as His shouts,

     because He speaks and His words cut through all of the opaque mundane,

     and all of the thick darkness that we sometimes endure.

He is speaking.

He calls us by name,

     saying, "Child, pay attention,

          you are Mine."

He knows His sheep.

By name, He knows us.

By name, He calls us.

The invitation is to experience Him [always].

The invitation is to go deeper.

always, always, always deeper than before.