You Are All I See

The words of an old song I heard in church once ring through my heart. Though I cannot find the song anywhere, I know I heard it. I know the Spirit inside me is reminding me of these words.
"You are all I see,
You are all I see.
The world fades away.
So with all my heart
and with all my soul,
I'll live for You alone."
I don't remember the rest, but I remember these vital, life-giving words.

You are all I see.
Is He all I see?
I get so distraught, I become so emotional, I feel so deeply.
Is He all I see?
I see disunity, I watch scenes of battles for the wrong things play before me. I see hurts and wounds and pains. I watch as the ones we thought were supposed to love pour salt on someones raw heart.
I see so much.

I remember the words so clearly to my heart. Time and time again. "Leah, have eyes to see."
To see what, Lord? To see the hurt I can't quite look beyond?
Oh no, self, you have it all wrong.

The answer is to see Him.
To see Jesus.

The Psalmist proclaims, "Where shall I go from your Presence?"
The Psalmist cries, "In your presence there is fullness of joy!"

I lament, "How can I see joy amidst this? Where can I see you?"

And my eyes have opened. The cool breeze of fall blows through my hair, I take off my shoes and my feet can breathe; again. There is freedom in this place. Where the Spirit of the Lord is, There is Freedom!

This freedom He speaks of, I've experienced. Exclusively the Lord and I, for a year of my life. A year of nothing except Him pursuing me and me pursuing Him. All of life's troubles faded away, the demons couldn't contend with the intimacy we had. I was in a place where Jesus was all I saw. He proved his trustworthiness to me. And then He called me out upon the waters. The waters I had almost drowned in before. The waters I had gone under in. The waters I feared.
He said, "Do not fear, for I am with you." He taught me how to swim, He taught me how to float. How could I doubt Him? I said I had no need to fear. He would be with me.
Yet, why is it when I am here in this painfully familiar territory I fear? Why is it I feel like I'm drowning?

The waves were high. The storm was real. I knew we would perish. In that moment, I knew we were about to meet our end. But I looked and I saw. I saw my Savior, I saw my Best Friend. I saw the one I trusted beyond a shadow of doubt. He was walking on the water. He said, "Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid." His gentle words stilled the storm in me as they always had. And I asked Him to call me. I asked Him to call me onto the waves. His words were soft, a smile on His lips. And I walked on the water. I was literally putting one foot in front of the other and defying laws of nature and gravity and walking on the water. I saw the waves, I saw the water and I thought, "Impossible." I began to sink, I cried out, "Lord, Save me!" 

He took my hand and said, almost mournfully, "Why did you doubt?"

Peter walked on water. Peter saw the waves, but He saw His Savior more. And he asked Jesus to call him onto the waves. That's the part I cannot get over. He didn't just watch in awe and wonder as Jesus defied nature. I'm going to say it again. He asked Jesus to call him onto the waves. He was a fisherman who knew the danger of storms and water. And he knew water. He was comfortable with it. In a boat. And then He asked Jesus that daring request with a far-fetched faith. And He walked on water. But why did He sink? He looked away from Jesus. He saw His situation instead of Jesus. He didn't see Jesus and fear caused Him to sink.

See, a few months ago, Jesus called me out upon the waves. And I had this daring faith, I said, "Yes, Lord. Call me out upon the waters, where feet may fail." I sang that song that has become popular phenomenon. I sang in faith, I sang knowing He would make me walk on the water too. 

And I walk momentarily on the water, often though it morphs from my unfazed trust into my doubt and me sinking and Jesus redeeming. Almost daily. And it is because I take my gaze off of Jesus. I see my circumstance, and oh how hopeless it seems. Without Jesus. His ever true words come back, "Leah, have eyes to see."

2 Corinthians 1:10 speaks hope to my soul. I am reminded of my familiar Hope. "He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again." 

He delivered me before, He will surely deliver me again. Not far later in the book of 2 Corinthians Paul says, "Therefore, we do not lose heart." And it comes back to the verse I have based my blog on. Clay Jars of Treasure. Afflicted but not crushed, perplexed but not despaired. 

We believe that He who raised Jesus will also bring us into His Presence. His presence that is filled with joy and love and peace. And the restoration I have been praying for. Oh this book is full of so many tiny treasures I long to share with you, another time. 

I conclude with one thing: Hope. Don't build your hope on your circumstance, Don't look at your circumstance, because surely you will soon begin to sink.You will lose sight of the light and the darkness will seem darker. Hope in Jesus. How? Gaze on Him. His light will guide you. His light will shine in dark corners. His light will cast glimmer of Hope all over your life. The fear will dissipate because instead of drowning in circumstance, you will be drowning in love. The need for independence will become detested because you will feel your inadequacy, and you'll fall into His Grace. You'll see that He is the God of restoration who wants to redeem your life and your circumstance far more than you do. 

Teach me, Lord, how to keep my gaze fixed upon You. I want you to be the only thing I see. And with Your vision, I'll see my situation in your glorious Light.

You are all I see.

An Extraordinary Life

What would Jesus do? We wear this on bracelets, we plaster it on the back of our cars. The question flickers through our minds when someone asks how we feel about alcohol or sex before marriage. 

But as I sat on the couch watching the little girl I nanny play with her dolls, the question pestered me. What would my Jesus do? 

Before coming home a month ago, I read a book about stories And living a life as a story. Fully, abundantly, life giving. It's an easy goal to have, but in the moment when children are wrestling you to the ground, your little sister is screaming at you at the top of her lungs, and your heart just wants to withdraw and run away, how can you live that story that seemed so ideal? The story that seemed like so much fun. 

And I honestly and truly want to evaluate in every situation, what would Jesus do? 

I don't believe that Jesus would sit back and just admire as Claire played with her dolls. No, I believe he would be on the floor arranging the greatest tea party that ever existed, treating her as if she we the only important thing in the world.

What would he do when my sister screams to get her way and cries-more like sobs- just wondering if we love her. He wouldn't walk away and ignore her. He would be by her side until she believed it with everything inside her. That's what He has done for me. 

Jesus has given us the greatest outline, to the greatest story. Frequently when we read the Bible or go to church we imagine God up in heaven creating a list of rules, smiling at the misery he might put us through. And we say, he doesn't understand. He hasn't walked this life. Yet, He did. In the most vulnerable of forms, human. He experienced every emotion, pain, hurt and temptation. Every joy, love and beauty. And he shows us how to live. Each person that he came into contact with knew they were valued. He never gave a list of rules, he smashed the pharisee's law to pieces when he said the greatest commandment is to love God and love others. 

So what would Jesus do? 

I don't know. Ask yourself as you do your job, live your life. Never ever let it get mundane or boring. Jesus always had excitement in his life. 

This year compared to last year, it's beginning to seem mundane. But it doesn't have to be. God is not a god of mundane, so if he has called me here, as I am confident of, I know that he will blow me out of the water and teach me how to live an ordinary life, extraordinarily.  

The Greatest Story: Part 2

The greatest story is about brave love. An intense, unchanging God who is ready to face any danger or pain crourageously. A love that came into the darkest night in the bramble of an overgrown forest. A love that came to a broken and bleeding heart on the ground and healed it. Its a story of humility, pain, suffering and relentless pursuing.
The God above all other gods, the Name above all other names, created a race called humanity, in the image of Himself. Agape Love filled the atmosphere. Love gives the freedom of choice and his beloved children chose rebellion, and separation ensued. No light, no hope, no love.

But the God above all other gods was a God of love. And so he pursued brave love. And so he declared to the angels and the demons, he cried out to all of creation, "I will restore this." And the Storyteller devised a plan of redemption and restoration laced together with love. He chose the flawed humanity to be his main characters. He chose you. The Storyteller knew something had to die to eliminate the death in the world, to breath life back. For a while the animals sufficed his wrath, but they were not perfect, they were flawed, so he chose brave love. He chose his son, knowing he would be rejected, knowing all would not accept His free gift of love. But we were worth it. He wanted to make us worthy.
His perfect son died a painful death as all of humanity mocked him and flaunted their sins, the reason for his death. And the heartbroken Storyteller turned his back for what had become of his story.
But a smile formed across his face as he reminded himself where the story was headed. For three days, the world was dark, hope had been murdered, the world mourned. But Sunday was coming. And Jesus rose out of his grave clothes and defeated Death. And said, "I love them more."  He promised us His Spirit to live within us. Who speaks to us, guides us, loves us, reassures us, heals us.
Then the Storyteller wrote us in, he handed the pens to us, told us his plans and whispered promises of how we could be a part in his story of redemption. We could tell his children that hope didn't stay dead. Hope rose again, it isn't about works, it isn't about finding another god to satisfy every need. It was about being loved bravely and loving bravely in return.
You are a part of the greatest story. You. Not just the missionary you support, your pastor or the one who works in youth ministry. You are a part of his greatest story.
I love being a character in His story. As my time here in Nicaragua comes to a close I hear my Author telling me, "when you go home, your role is just as important." He has given me tasks, he has given me a heart for the next step in my life and I am excited to be the pen in the next part of my story, listening to my Writer as he tells me which way to go, what to do, what to say.
My heart longs to know the ending but my hands and feet long for the now. This past week in Nicaragua, I've done a variety of things, that were paragraphs and sentences in someone else's story. I held a tiny baby and told her mom she was beautiful, told her she was worth it with my actions, and her eyes looked lighter than they did when I first met her. Her story is altered. So many memories of how others showed me those thing that burn in my head and I know it was worth it.
I was obedient to my Author and I know I was written  in.
And I trust him, I love him, I know him.

The best part of having a glimpse of the missionary life is the way it has stolen my breath, stolen my heart. Somehow, it hurts ans is abaolutley wonderful in each moment. Because I have learned something, I have learned that when stories collide, the stars shine a little bit brighter. When lives intermingle, the flowers open wider. And sometimes I wonder how out of all the 6 billion people on this planet, the storyteller sees every one, and he cares deeply about every single one. And He has sent me. He has sent you.
So, I want to invite you with me, let's live the greatest story. One where we look back and are proud of what we have done.

The Greatest Story: Part 1

I am sitting in a home and they tell me the man laying in bed was put there by the police. He'd been laying in bed for over a year. Unable to take care of himself or his family. The police thought he was another man and beat him till he was in a coma. And they didn't pay for the damages. And now he suffers brain damage an had become like a child. 
The situation should feel hopeless. I should be angry. Instead I only feel hope.
Her husband died last year. He killed himself. Drowning himself in alcohol. He died of kidney failure. She holds her year old son. But I see her friendly neighbor who loves her community sit across from her. I don't feel upset. I feel hope.

The homes built into this mountain, the treacherous way to get to them, especially in the rain bring me hope. The smiles on the faces of the children. This place is swimming in hope.
And for the first time, its not hard to trust God with these people. To trust that he cares. To trust that he is not a complacent God. But a God who speaks. A God who acts. A God who cares.
And I realize I am part of the greatest story. One that began with Adam, Abraham, Isaac, Moses, David. One that continued with Peter, Paul and Stephen. And one that doesnt revolve around me. There are moments with me written into it, but even greater are the times I get to see others stories and introduce them to the greatest storyteller himself. Jesus.
Because here in Nicaragua, the people believe going to church will save you. But jesus isn't about church. He's about loving God and loving others. Its about getting to know him and going on the greatest adventure and taking others with you. Jesus is more than church. Jesus is about pursuing the greatest relationship and im thankful he wrote me in the story in the greatest of ways. I pray my love will show the still a better way.

One more week for my team here in Nicaragua, and I am excited for the things God has yet to do. It gives me hope.

The Father Heart of God

Day 1:
My heart is stolen. Two precious little thieves took possession of my heart. She took me into her tiny home, 5 beds, little space. A momma and papa who don't care and a 10 year old brother that basically takes care of them. Have they ever felt love before? The injustice that this concept is so foreign weighs on my heart.
But here is the gift, I have a few short days to pour all my love on them. Every ounce I have ever been given will be my only gift to these two girls.
Day 2:
I love them so much. "Te amo." My words so inadequate. I read them  bible stories in my Spanish bible. Do they understand?
I come again and one of them sees me. She engulfs me in a bear hug with her tiny arms.
She feels love. She knows love maybe for the first time with my broken Spanish and my heart filled with jesus.
I hear jesus' gentle words. "Give them to me. I love them so much more than you do." How is that possible? Because the love I experience is so great I can't even explain it. I know it is God's father heart overflowing with love, first onto me, out pouring onto these beautiful children. What is my capacity? When will I run out? When will my heart break? I've thought about the day I must leave them. And my heart aches. A burden i am not sure I can bear. And Satan whispers lies, "Love isn't worth it. This will break you. This will crush you. Don't do it." But my Father's words are sweeter. "Pull me a little closer, take me a little deeper." I have finally found where I belong. In the arms of love.
Day 3:
If I love them this much and you love them so much more, then I feel safe giving then to you. I feel safe loving them with nothing left even when I know just how much it will hurt.
You answered my prayers you gave us an opportunity to share the gospel with their parents. Your hand is on this family. I know and I can confidently say that I trust you. Your hands are softer your love is more gentle, your heart is deeper and your arms are wider and you will never run  dry. Thank you for that.

Day 4:
I have one more day and I can feel my heart breaking. I can hear God whispering, "Leah, keep on loving." I'll give her my everything, but I know it will hurt. I'll give her Jesus. God says to me, "my love for her is unconditional." Am I the only one to ever love her?
He promises, "I know the plans I have for her. Plans to prosper her and not to harm her, plans to give her a future and a hope." And I trust him more than I ever have. Because I know his love and I know that he began a good work in her and he will complete it by the day or christ jesus. I believe these promises.

Day 5:
It's over. Our goodbye happened in the blink of an eye and then she was gone. The tears came, as they should. Goodbye is a terribly, bittersweet thing. But in the words of Winnie the pooh. "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."

I asked for this. A week ago, I prayed an apparently dangerous prayer. "God, give me a greater revelation of your father heart." And since I have experienced a love I cannot explain. If I can love this much as a flawed human, and it is only a faint shadow of the love God feels. His heart of love is so deep, so vast and expansive, yet so deep and so intimately personal. How could I ever doubt his love? I can't doubt that he will take care of Ashly. Of course he would want to speak to her as he wants to speak to me. We are his daughters. My heart is broken as I have to be the one to leave her. His heart can never be broken for that. His heart breaks when we run from him. He always pursues. Always. I felt this love and I am compelled to trust him.
Its like I am drowning in an ocean of love, I can feel his heart beating next to mine.
And now, I can love bravely. A strong love that comes from God, and shows me how to lean not on my own understanding. A love that might now be safe, but a love that I trust.

A Trash Dump and Brave Love

The trash lay astrew, some knotted on the ground, glass glimmering as it catches the sunlight. And the children are everywhere, running from hidden homes. There is food on that bus. They frantically line up, knowing something that we don't: not everyone will get some. Frowns seemingly engraved on their dirt smeared faces. I gather my team, and we present our gospel drama. After, we are just as dirty as they are. And then we give them sandwiches. One after another, they take them. They scamper off to the sides eating their sandwiches, somehow grateful for this tiny act of kindness. Our Nicaragua friend tells us "they live on less than $20 a week."
$2 a day. For one family.
But here, what constitutes as a family? Is it the 10 year old girl holding her toddler sisters hands? They hang onto her like a mother.
Or is it the many women without a man in sight with 6 kids in tow.
I tell my team, "go, play with them. Love on them." We have 2 short hours.
The little one with dirt under her nose and sad eyes is mine. I sit in the dirt, broken glass, trash and God knows what else lays around me. And I reach for her hand, she hides behind her 10 year old sister/mother. She gives a faint smile, but she doesn't know how much I want to give her love. Her sister says to me with broken eyes, "when will you come back?" How can I tell her this is our only time? She has probably seen it before, people come in for just a few hours and they leave. How can she know all we want to do is bring her home?
After some prodding, a little friend comes to sit on my lap, in the trash covered dump. A language barrier isn't much in these moments. I speak my broken Spanish and she giggles as she teaches me words and I forget them all too quickly. Silly faces for a camera brings them a joy I hadn't seen before. They are so trusting. Physically, they are so impoverished. Food needs to be rationed and clothes are picked up from the mounds of trash. But, they have so much. They have one another, and now, for the first time, they know love.
Lies whisper, "they will forget soon." But those children won't forget. It is something so different, so foreign it will forever be etched on their hearts. Because this kind of love is fierce. Thia kind of love is relentless. This kind of love is fearless. 
This is brave love.

I watched this week as my team of 4 teens, 1 youth group leader, 2 co-staff and myself, an inexperienced leader, felt God's love just a little bit deeper, inspired to live more fully.
It has been so fulfilling to give Bibles to people who have never owned one., to find hope amidst piles of trash and to disciple my team to grow.
At the end of this week, I am overwhelmed by God's affection.
He took me, an inexperienced 19 year old girl to lead a team of teenagers from America to Nicaragua. And the fruit is amazing.
I've seen a girl who used to be paralyzed to speak in front of others share her testimony, a girl with terribly high walls tear them down and let people in for the first time. Teens have led people to the lord. I heard the words, "I want to be a missionary."
The joy of discipleship is something I love to be a part of. lives changed and hearts mended inspires me.
I am learning that God is so big and strong that he can use even me to accomplish his plans. I am the clay and he is the potter. And as my dad always says, "God don't make junk."
I've been in Nicaragua for almost 2 weeks. And I am so hungry to keep falling in love with the Lord, I am so hungry to give him to others.
Here I am. Send me.

The Truth is Who He is

I had a revelation this morning that sums up my week.
If I can't believe that God loves me, my Faith becomes selfish, needy and desperate. It becomes too much about me. But if I can fully understand and grasp his love for me, I'll understand that the glory is all about Him and I can love others more deeply.
The words of insecurity never actually come from my mouth, but sometimes I wonder, "If God loves me, why and how much?' But if I'm constantly searching, desperately yearning for answers and truth I already have, it drains me. It releases from me truth and insecurity. It takes my heart that is shrouded in truth and allows lies to seep inside. And suddenly, it's about me. Suddenly, I'm so blinded by what I need that the needs of others don't seem important. They seem petty and I get irritated by the little things that people do, when instead I should care deeply and love much.
But truth is spoken over my life, and just imagine it. Jesus, the son of God himself, comes to you, takes a hold of your hand looks deep in your eyes and says, "I love you."
Everything changes. Because no longer is it about the insecurities. When your in the presence of God, all fears and doubts are cast away.
 When your so close he's holding your hand,
For the first time again,
it's real.
When you meet True Love face to face,
there's no denying it.
You are loved.
When you are His embrace,
there's no shame,
you are accepted.
When you glimpse His love for you,
there's no stopping it,
You're on fire.
In confidence, you can walk freely and it's no longer about you.
Suddenly, its about Him. Suddenly because he loves me I am free to love. I want to love deeply and give everything. And because I know who He is, I know who I am. It's no longer about myself because I'm assured and confident. When I know His love for me, it's about giving him the glory. And that is the place that I want to be.
This week, I got  a dose of how closely I edged to the cliff of narcissism in not believing God when he says, "I love you." Period. No ifs or buts. Just, "Leah, I love you." And I'm enthralled when he says my name. I'm enraptured by Who he is. 
Be confident in the identity that has been bought for you on the cross. Believe it. Speak it. Ask God to speak life over you, He will. All you must do is believe him. Don't desperately try and chase after an unachievable goal of searching for love when it's been freely given to you.
I choose belief. I choose truth, because the lies are snakes around my neck trying to kill me and I will no longer give them that role. It's no longer about who I am, it's about who my Father in heaven is.
I choose life.
John 10:10 I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.