Gentle death, Hope, Jesus, Joy, Love, Sacred Space, Surrender


Heart: desperately desiring intimacy and connection, beating for love and the desire to be loved.

Hurt: a wounded heart, punctured in a vulnerable area–the desire to be loved. The realization of the pure desire for love being crushed into a thousand pieces. A distrusting heart.

Hope: a heart that has been crushed being loved and drawn back together. Being purely loved–a love undefiled and unchanging, changing what seemed unchangeable. Hope is faith in action; the knowledge/belief that Jesus loves you without end.

The hearts of the world have been wounded, their own desires for love mocking them as they become divided inside. Jesus sees and feels–even understands–the pain of the hearts of the world. By stepping into our realm of death, He was born a helpless infant–to mend the hearts of the world.

Contentment, Gentle death, Hope, Jesus, Joy, Love, Poetry, Sacred Space, Surrender, Theology


Your kindness threads into my story’s fabric of despair;
I weep, You whisper—I know that you are there.

Though the dark of night—it drowns my soul—Your flame, it never leaves;
I’m blind, but You know this—Your teaching me to see.

Grace upon grace is lavished and wasted,
Spilling over until I have tasted,
Your love, Your deep, deep love—and it’s enough.


Gentle death, Hope, Jesus, Joy, Love, Sacred Space, Surrender

Becoming Whole

It’s been a crazy year–or couple of years. Through my ups and downs, my elation and my melancholy, I feel as if to be a different person. Or, a new version of myself. Remember when you were little, and you looked in the mirror to find that you looked different than you did the morning before? Yep, kinda like that. It feels like a habitual shedding of the person that I constantly have to get to know all over again. What I’m actually finding is that, through all the morphing into new stages of life and self, I am only seeing what was there all along, only covered by layers of “protection”. Protection for and from a broken heart.

When you look at a seed, do you see a well-watered, thriving shrub, plant, or tree? Hardly. You wouldn’t directly think of the lush greenery that hides inside the seeds protective casing. Before that seed can grow into a beautiful tree, it’s protective cover must die.

Before there can be resurrection, there has to be death first. I have found that I must die to my efforts of trying to be God, and surrender my “seed covering” up to Him. And slowly and gently, Jesus peels the layers of my heart’s protective covering away, so my vulnerability, hurt, sin, and self-rejected parts are exposed. I become a little girl again, weak, helpless, and wholly dependent on my Father. I realize that I am poor, in need of much care–like an infant. This is where the true healing begins. I am exposed. I no longer hold and hide away the things that bring me great shame, but, like vomit, they spill out into the light. But I find that in the light, there is kindness. I meet the gentle gaze of my Father, and I am undone. I feel His patience, and it steadies my anxious heart–a heart that is being healed, a heart that is being made whole.

Contentment, Gentle death, Hope, Jesus, Joy, Love, Music, Poetry, Sacred Space, Surrender

All I Know

Broken, this shell that’s quickly passing–back to where it came;
Empty, this heart, it seems it’s fasting-from love instead of pain.

All I know is that I know what You’ve done for me,
All I know is that I know I’m here on my knees,
And You stay with me, You stay with me.

Hiding, the things I think will shame me–being someone I can’t be;
Running, far from where I started-but it’s running after me.

All I know is that I know what You’ve done for me,
All I know is that I know I’m here on my knees,
And You wait for me, You wait for me.

You know me, this frail, unsteady flower–like a fallen leaf;
You show me, every moment, every hour–how You’re loving me.

All I know is that I know what You’ve done for me,
All I know is that I know I’m here on my knees,
And You’re shaping me, You’re shaping me.

Christian Living, Contentment, Gentle death, Sacred Space, Surrender

Blessed Are The Poor

When one comes to the realization that they are poor, it is then that they are truly ready to receive all that they need.

When we realize that our “defenses” and false identities no longer work, then we are forced to see our poverty. If we become a barren wasteland, if we accept our poverty, then we gratefully receive the kingdom of God.

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 5:3

Christian Living, Contentment, Gentle death, Hope, Jesus, Joy, Sacred Space

Thief Of Joy

Thief of Joy

Envy, no more my heart entertain,
Separation, it selfishly employs;
For me and You gives mutual pain,
It robs us fellowship and joy.

Self-loathing takes me to a sphere,
Where, in God, many flaws I find;
My heart, it plays back like a mirror,
Contentment, losing strength of mind.

Thief of joy, your fault is found,
Your common but pretentious lie;
Your doubts now buried neath’ the ground,
Will help my fears to gently die.