InstaBlogs.

bible study.

I'd like to bust the myth that studying the Bible, that studying the heart of Jesus, is only for those who "know what they're doing"; that it's only for the gals who doodle trendy word art in the margins or guys who know their theology backward and forwards. I operated under that myth for far, far too long.
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Beautiful Bible art glorifies God, but honest, searching hearts who show up at the Messiah's feet glorify Him MORE.
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Look at these frantic scribbles and my over-highlighting. Those page marking tabs? There is literally no rhyme or reason to their placement besides marking words that stir my heart, whether I fully understood them or not. They're not color coded. If I had to study the "right way" or know what every passage meant, or know where every book in the Bible was located, I would hardly ever study the Word. On most pages, I have far more '???'s scribbled down than notes.
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You don't have to show up with knowledge and perfection; with Insta-worthy scrawl or quote-able prayers. You've just gotta sit down and let Jesus order YOU. You've just gotta say, "Take this wandering heart and make it faithful." You've just gotta start opening the window so He can pour His faithfulness in. And show you it exists.
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I'm not necessarily doing it "right". As evidenced by photo 2, far more pages are unmarked and un-studied. But it's more important to me to be honest and connect where we break down, than to never connect at all. He doesn't want my flawless-ness. It doesn't exist. He wants my frantic and awkward and scared and broken and hurt so He can do what I can't -- REDEEM.
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And He wants yours, too.

suffering.

If it wasn't Holy Week, I may not be taking the resurgence of my chronic pain with such grace. Since I was 14, this is a normal sight for me. Heating pad + shades drawn + in bed + high doses of pain medication on a loop. This week, however, I am so glad the suffering of Jesus and Mary are already so readily on my mind and heart. It softens the cross of yet another cycle of pain, more hours of work missed, and misunderstanding of what's happening in my body with a little bit of Heavenly comfort.
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Look, I'm not comparing my suffering to the Crucifixion. And I'm not comparing it to anyone else's suffering either. Believe me, I've silenced myself from complaining so many times by thinking "Do you know how much worse other people have it?" But that's the thing about suffering -- no suffering looks alike. Mine doesn't look like yours, and hers doesn't look like his. We all suffer differently. In different mediums, in different degrees, and with different levels of ability, or inability, to explain it. But it matters. Every single piece of your suffering -- great or small -- matters.
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Jesus cares about your suffering. He CARES.
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He's not looking down at you from the Cross and thinking, "Suck it up, will you? Look at these nails in my hands and feet. Yet, you dare to complain about your burden. You're not worth My suffering."
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No, He's smiling at you. He's smiling from the Cross. I know that's not an image we ever see -- yes, Jesus was in absolute torment hanging up there. But I promise, Glorified Jesus, who resides in Heaven now, is re-visiting Calvary with you, and smiling because He can't contain the unstoppable love and affection He has for you. Jesus didn't give you your suffering, but He fully intends to replace the stones breaking your bones on earth with diamonds when you enter His Kingdom in Heaven.
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And I propose He won't just replace, but He'll multiply your number TENFOLD.
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He will heal me. He will heal you. This Holy Week, He is so close to you. Mama Mary is so close to you. Sit with them in your suffering and in theirs. Rest, mourn, kiss Jesus' feet. As Jesus was resurrected -- body and soul -- you will be, too.
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Amen.

powerful prayers.

I used to be scared of powerful prayers.
In my mind, to even hint at 'big' prayers, to even wonder if the Lord could rumble the plates of the Earth for me, made me prideful, conceited, falsely humble.
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The chorus that rang over and over again when this daughter dared to dream was:
"Well, you can't ask for THAT."
"You're thinking too big."
And I can just see God sitting with me, pulling me in, shaking His head.
"Dang, girl," He'd say. "Let me get in there. Please, let me turn your world upside down and write you wild just once. Let me show you what I long to do."
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But no. I was attracted to boxes, to hard lines, to stop signs.
And that paralysis should stop right here.
Let me rip this lie out from under you and rewrite it:

The size of your prayer is directly related to the size of your God.
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See, I thought that the wildest, craziest, most daring petition was outside God's box. I thought I could dream of things that God couldn't make happen. That I had ideas that were impossible for God.

I feared conceit in big prayers, so I became conceit in small prayers.

I feared pride in invoking the Almighty, so I became pride in denial of the Almighty.

I feared false humility in confidence in the Lord's providence, so I became false humility in creating my own providence.

You become what you fear.
And you pray only as big as you think your God is.
But there is no containing the force that God intends to unleash upon your prayer life.
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Friends, do we know the gift we've been given? Do we know the AUTHORITY we've been gifted? God wants to REMOVE our false humility so He can MOVE our mountains.
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POWERFUL PRAYERS: That is our assignment, that is our birth right, that is our commission. The Lord Himself made it so when He sent His very Spirit upon this Earth to direct His church and instruct our hearts.
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It is not a question of "can I pray big?"
It is a question of "WILL I pray big?"
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We pray:: Lord, Bestow Your boldness. Write us wild. Dare us to pray boldly and underscore our wildest dreams. Holy Spirit, unleash Your Heavenly fire and give us Your prayers to pray. Amen.