on the other side of surrender...

Recently I had the opportunity to preach at church on the Holy Spirit and how often times experiencing His power is contingent on one word: surrender.  Surrender is one of those tricky words that we often think we've got all figured out, until, that is, we realize we're not as surrendered as we might like to believe.  If you're tracking with me here it's most likely because we are kindred personalities.

So what is surrender?  What does surrender look like?  Perhaps a better question is what isn't surrender?  My pastor describes surrender somewhat this way, "surrender with conditions is no surrender at all."  I'm not sure about you but I've found my "surrender" to be quite conditional more times than I care to admit.  I don't wink at my stubborn tendencies and neither do I excuse them.  Resistance, in any form, to the Holy Spirit is both grieving and foolish.

When faced with the cross, Jesus asked His Father to "let this cup pass from me."  Today, faced with a cross of my own, I admit that I  too am asking Him to take a cup from me that seems far too much for me to bear.  The contents of it truly seems too impossible to swallow.  Yet, as Jesus prayed, I can't deny that somewhere from within, my heart cries a surrendered, "nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will."

There are times that Love requires us to go where we can't imagine being able to go.  There are times that Love requires us to do what we never imagined being able to do...this might just be one of those times.

As I process and wrestle with myself to accept His invitation to take up my cross and follow Him, He assures me that He is with me and there is even more victory on the other side of surrender...

the rhythms of freedom...

I'm in one of those incredible seasons where God's voice and activity seem so close and so near.  I cherish this.  I contend for this.  I don't take it for granted, and I pray it lasts.  Although His nearness means surrendering layers and parts of me I was hesitant to give up, He is faithful and relentlessly tenacious in His pursuit to love and free us.  And although I can sometimes feel like a hot-mess, He has more wonder-working power than I have "issues".  Thank God!

Today, His challenge to me was to "re-learn the rhythms of freedom."  He began to show me that for some time I had been "out of sync."  As in the natural, when the rhythm is thrown off, the whole song is affected.

Acts 17:28 says this, "in Him we live, and MOVE, and have our being." 

To "re-learn the rhythms of freedom", is to re-learn the rhythm of living and moving IN HIM.  He is Freedom, it is His very name!  Where He is, there is FREEDOM. (2 Corinthians 3:17)  Yes, walking in freedom takes our cooperation with and yieldedness to Him, but freedom is not struggle!  Freedom is a gift, already purchased and ready for us to receive!

Today, I am overwhelmingly grateful for His never-ending pursuit to have all of me.  Today, I will watch Him and listen with my ear pressed to His chest.  Today I will allow Him the honor of leading this dance, and will enjoy simply swaying to the song He is singing over me!

A Letter To Me...

I watched a  show tonight where a woman wrote a letter to her childhood self.  I've heard of people doing that before, but never felt the need to until tonight.  As I switched off the t.v., something in me knew I had to.  I had no intention of sharing it.  I actually hand wrote it in a journal and thought, "that was that."  I was wrong. God began to stir my heart in that unmistakable way He does.

 I've committed to God to share my story, to share my real journey with others because somebody, somewhere might just need it.  I can't hoard His goodness.

I remember the first time I heard someone else sharing "my story"...it was their testimony, but it was mine too...it changed my life forever.  She lived to tell her story.  So did I.  So I obediently write in hopes that someone else might be encouraged and made whole and maybe even write a letter of their own.



A Letter To Me...

"Dear Kimmy.

I'm writing this letter to you, the three year old girl I once was, because there are some things you need to know.  I'm thirty-six now, and I've truly never been happier.  I'm living the life we never imagined possible.  I want you to know, sweet girl, that there are better days ahead.  The darkness won't last forever.  There will be more bad days than good for many years,  but know that it won't last forever.

You won't just be happy in the future, you will have real joy and lasting peace.  You will KNOW that you are loved and that will begin to make all the difference.  I know that right now you are terrified by what's going on.  I know you don't understand why this is happening and are wondering if it will ever end.  It will sweet girl.

I know that being abandoned and left to live in strange homes with strange people is terrifying to such a little girl.  I know you feel like it's all your fault.  Please hear me when I say, none of this is your fault.  You are a child.  You don't deserve to be abandoned, mistreated, devalued.  You don't deserve to be defiled and abused. You deserve to be loved, protected, treasured, and safe...every little girl does.

There will be days when you despise being a girl.  There will even be days when you despise being alive. Hold on.  You will soon discover that God Himself is your Daddy and He has a plan for all of this.  You'll see.

You aren't a mistake.  You aren't a mistake.  You aren't a mistake.

God Himself planned for you and He says, "you will live and not die and will declare the works of the Lord."  That word will sustain you and prove itself truth in your life.  I know it's hard for such a small child to comprehend, but you'll discover it's all true soon, I promise.

I know right now, you can't imagine life at thirty-six because you can't allow yourself to even imagine surviving another day...but you will.  You will, in fact, survive a whole lot of "another days."  Some of them, sadly, will be far worse than the ones you know now.  I wish it weren't so, but it is.  However, there are also days coming that God will begin to redeem everything--ALL of it.  These days will far outshine them all, you'll see.

You have to know you will be o.k.  I know there's nobody there to tell you that right now, but if you listen, I promise you that you'll begin to hear the voice of God--even at this early age--and He will whisper comforts to your soul. 

Life will continue even after those moments when it seems like it's all over.  Life will continue even when you're begging in agony for it to all just end.  There are some prayers, you'll see, that His answer to is, "no."  He has a plan.  I know you can't see it yet, but I promise you He does.

Much will be taken from you, little one, but much more will be given back to you...more than you can ever imagine.  Even now, as I write, I know that there is much more still to be restored as I am daily being lavishly ransomed.

You will have many questions on this journey, and few will be answered to your human liking--you will come to accept that. You will be o.k.  You will find wholeness that will far supersede the anguish and sorrow your tiny heart now feels.  You will find a purpose in all of this and for you, that will be enough.

I wish I could rescue you somehow, but that is not the way this story goes.  My heart breaks for your innocence, yet my spirit peacefully rejoices in knowing that YOU WILL NOT BE DESTROYED.  You live...I live...and the story continues."

-Kimberly

Ten years later...

Ten years ago today, my world and everything in it changed as I knew it.  Ten years ago my world stopped abruptly without my permission.  Ten years ago I was thrust into a chaotic, screaming whirlwind that disheveled all normalcy and threatened to destroy the very foundations of my being.  Ten years ago today my sister died.

After struggling to drift off to sleep far too late last night, I awoke today to that all-too-familiar heaviness one author calls, "The Great Sadness".  It isn't that it sprung itself on me suddenly, no, it's frequently looming unseen and undetectable to the naked eye.  On a day like today, however, when dates and times and events forever etched on your soul press so unapologetically they can suffocate, that great sadness is relentless.

Today is much like THAT day ten years ago... as I sit in Starbucks, processing my invisible aches, I am  surrounded by bustling people unaware-- their lives somehow unscathed by the trauma that nearly cost me mine. This used to make me feel so bitter, knowing that for some, a "bad day" is categorically nothing more than unfortunate hair days and rush hour traffic.  Today, after years of being too intimately acquainted with grief, I am thankful that in His sovereignty, this is not God's chosen path for all. 

For those who have thus far escaped the incessant pain of loss...
For those who have never had to say goodbye too soon...
For those who have never faced the words cancer... or terminal... or code blue...

For them, I am thankful that they don't know.

But for those who do know, for those who are also gravely familiar with sorrow, I offer you more than my sympathy.  I have not walked in the shoes that you've probably struggled to simply just put on some days.  I will never know your exact journey so I will not offer you trite words better saved for bumper stickers.  What I extend to you today, ten years later, is hope.

A dear friend of mine explained a scenario the other day of waking up to watch the sun rise and due to a rather dreary Austin morning, the sun's arrival on that day was hidden from her view.  It wasn't that the sun didn't come up, it did-- it always does, but because of the clouds and the engulfing gloom, it was simply undetectable.  She was left in the reality of the gray-- wishing and wanting and waiting for the warmth of the sun's rays. 

Today, even as I sit here typing these words, the sun is beginning its accent into the sky and I am reminded that clouds do not have the power to keep the sun from shining--they can only temporarily hide it.

The sun will rise again--it's rising even now while you may still be sitting in the hazy aftermath of your own tragedy.

You may find it too much to bear.  You may want to draw the curtains shut.  You may want to forever bury yourself beneath the covers and from its rays but know this...

The sun will rise again.

God never promised us days without rain.  It may rain and you might just be caught off-guard in the storm without an umbrella-- left feeling scared, alone, and unprepared...but just wait...

The sun will rise again. 

When it does, it may happen for you as it has for me, that you find yourself welcoming the warmth it gives and the growth that only it produces.  You may find yourself stretching out beneath its golden-hued goodness and feeling grateful for a new day. 

Ten years later you may still encounter a few clouds now and then, but if you decide to,  you can and WILL endure them.  And soon, if you can manage to keep throwing off the covers and  putting on your shoes, soon enough you will LIVE.

"My life was suddenly divided into before and after, and there was no going back to before. But then I realized I had a CHOICE to live the after.  I had to decide."