I Still Want To

The other night I stumbled upon a video of Jacob Hanly singing his song “I still want you.” I listened on repeat and tears spilled down my face as the words washed over my heart, connecting with a much weakened resolve to love the Lord. Lately all I seem to feel is darkness. I want to love. I want to feel love. Tiny shimmers of light keep breaking through and for a brief moment I feel like all is well when suddenly the darkness explodes in again. The truth of the matter is that I’m left without any desire or will to fight so I sit and it takes over.

I need a revelation of the Father’s love. For if I truly understood what He has given and how He has reached out and how he continues to reach out then everything else would fade in comparison. I’ve always yearned for love to chase me. I know that some of that comes from the fantasy of chick flicks. There is an unrealistic picture of perfection that has been raised up in our hearts because of thousands of 2-hour stories that portray love as simple and romance as easy. The woman is always beautiful. The man always ends up needing her more than anything and proving so through various means of extravagance. I don’t want Hollywood to define love for me. And yet….

Isn’t the love of God the most extravagant of all? My Bible shows me a picture of a groom who truly gave everything. I believe that it is God who placed inside the heart of every woman the longing to be sought after. Not just in the initial stages of a romantic relationship, but forever. We will always yearn to be pursued in every stage of life. It is not wrong to want to know that we are worth any inconvenience and any sacrifice. Why? Because we are worth it. He has already pursued my heart more than any man possibly can. He has given me the desire to be pursued by an extravagant love because that is what he IS and that is what He does. Even when others fail, He is there, beckoning us to rest in His perfect love. If I know this….why is it not enough?

Song of Solomon 2:4 says that he brought her to the banqueting table and His banner over her was love. That speaks so strongly to my heart because it meant that she was safe. She could trust that no matter where he took her, no matter who was around, His banner would be over her and it would proclaim love. Oh to feel safe! To know that regardless what you did or said, or what season you were going through, or who’s picture of perfection as a wife or mother or woman or Christian you didn’t or couldn’t live up to…you are safe because He loves you and his banner speaks nothing but love.

I’ve found myself in the past few months looking at things with bitterness when I used to look with longing. I’ve come to a point where I no longer believe some aspects of love are mine or should be mine and I’ve allowed them to curl up inside of me until they’ve nearly died. But the truth is that they can never die because HE has created me with the needs and wants that I have. He is not shocked or repulsed by them. Even as I’ve shrunk back, my heart is crying for Him to see the “want to” hidden there. To notice the tiny gestures I’m making and tenderly love me back into the assurance that I am all He’s ever wanted. And in this time I find myself crying to the Lord, again and again “WHAT IS LOVE!? WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CLINGING TO?!?!”

“Greater love has no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friend.” – John 15:13. I whispered this over and over to myself as I sat weeping in the prayer room on Saturday. I desperately needed to know that someone loves me so much that they’d give everything. Everything. Really and truly. He gave everything. And that is what love is. He gave it all so we could take His name. We can let go of who we were and join His family. He does not make us into something we are not or expect us to become someone else. He LOVES us as we are and only desires to refine who that person already is until we are living in the reality of who we were created to be. Taking on His name means that we are coming under his protection. It means we are safe. It means we have a high priest and a lover and a papa. Behold what manner of love the Father has given unto us – to love and be loved without the chains of expectations!

My soul yearns to understand all of this. To believe that love is really what He says it is.

Love is patient and kind.
Love is not jealous
or boastful
or proud
or rude
It does not demand it’s own way.
It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged.
It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out.
Love never gives us,
never loses faith,
is always hopeful,
and endures through every circumstance

I am afraid to love this way because deep down I do not want to give more than I am getting. I do not believe that this type of love is going to be given to me. I fear looking foolish. For if I give everything and do not get it back…what does that make others think about what I am worth? I am desperate to feel WORTHY of love. At the same time, I’m afraid to let others love me this way because I don’t want to be a burden. Any gesture towards me is met with panic inside that I won’t be able to match what they’ve done. I sabotage myself.

AND YET….He first loved me. Even if nobody else looks, His eyes are on me and they are KIND. I ravish his heart. I don’t think I’ve ever ravished anyone’s heart before. I take his very breath away. I KNOW I’ve never taken someone’s breath before. But the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, who created the earth looks at me as if I am the only woman He sees. The thought of a gaze like that takes MY breath away!

“And though you’ve told me a thousand times, what do you see, what do you feel when you look at me? Come and say it again like the first time”

Jesus…come and love me. I’m desperate to know how you feel. Teach my heart to rest in love. I’m not giving up. I still want to love you. I believe I move your heart…help my unbelief. “I love you, I still want you. I’ll never stray too far from home. I love you, I still want you. I’ll give you all my heart and soul”.

Voluntary Victim

Saturday I awoke at 5 am, hopped in the shower, put on several layers of clothing, and drove to the GPR where we departed on a yellow school bus at 6. Within a few short minutes I started getting nervous as the several layers didn’t feel like much protection in the bus who’s heater decided to conk out. Why was I nervous? Great question…

I’d volunteered to play a victim for the Crisis Response Training going on at Timberlake Camp about an hour from Kansas City. They’d given us advise as far as wool socks and not wearing cotton clothing (Cotton kills!) but due to a lack of funds and time I didn’t grab the under armor or suggested foot-wear. Oh yeah…and I wasn’t wearing a coat because they mentioned that everything you wore had to be able to get ruined since the fake blood might stain. So…I stuck to several, defective layers of killing cotton. Thus began an entire day of feeling like my feet were on the verge of falling off.

We arrived at the camp and went into a slightly warmer lodge (which began feeling warmer as the day wore on and i got colder) and received our instructions. Half of the group would spend the day in the woods so the trainees could work on their tracking skills, the rest of us would do our simulations in camp.

The story went something like this…Spring Valley, a fictitious town some miles away, had been having a town hall meeting on Thursday when the right and left sides began to bicker, eventually resulting in a full blown riot. Somewhere in the midst of this, a whole bunch of hostages were taken on a school bus and nobody had seen it since. In the meantime, a group of prisoners overtook two jailers, killed them, and took off with another bus. To make matters worse, a hospital was taken over during the riot and nobody was allowed in for medical treatment. etc, etc, etc…these poor trainees were in for a rough few days! One of the scenarios could have been a Jericho scene, but for the lack of radiation sickness. Who knew that a cancelled tv show would actually have a practical use for training rescue workers?

I wasn’t there for the simulations on Friday, but Saturday we did group after group in half hour shifts. For the very first team we rolled up in a bus and spilled into the gravel road crying and looking for help…we were from the hospital that was rejecting people and heard they had some sort of medical personnel at the camp. There were various degrees of wounds. One woman was supposed to be 8 months pregnant and alternated between not having felt the baby move in a few days and going into labor early. One team was even walked through the birthing process. My brother was in the first group and did a fantastic job. There were others who took care of me that stuck in my mind – some woman named Kim, Mr. Dodd, Roger Lester, Nate Roberts.

I can’t tell you how many times throughout the day I was put in a neck brace, wrapped up in tiny blankets, and left to lay on a cold cot while others were “dying” next to me. It actually made me think quite a bit about real crisis victims and what they’re thinking and being presented with and feeling. As someone who wants to go through the training at some point, this was really valuable to me. Those who really showed compassion and put genuine effort into it stood out, even when they were unsure of what to do, medically. I love that CRI’s focus is spiritual first and physical second. I can’t imagine how relief workers who do not have the message of the Gospel and the hope of the Holy Spirit handle real disasters.

There were several random things I learned. Neck braces can hurt when put on you sideways. It’s good to actually say something when said incident happens instead of just laying there hoping they discover it themselves. The cots they use in disasters aren’t comfortable. Those blankets that actually look like tin foil only work if you tuck them in all the way around. Wool socks and under armor are both very good ideas and I wish I had some. Real love goes a long way when you’re short on physical supplies.

I quickly decided that there were enough volunteers who could play characters that went into hysterics. I was going to try and cause the trainees to get in touch with their emotions, not just their ability to think quickly. Therefore, I called on one of my lesser known talents – crying. I am able to cry on demand. Don’t worry, I don’t pull this out for anything besides dramatic presentations as fake crying never actually gets you the results you’re looking for when used in real life. It was kinda fun to watch eyes widen as tears started rolling down my cheeks and concern sweep across their faces. I hope I remember to be kind when I’m put in charge of real victims some day. I think it would be easy to forget when you’re running on adrenaline.

I also discovered right away that going into shock meant I would probably get an extra blanket for the remainder of that teams’ half hour. You better believe I did that one as much as I could! As there were important steps for the trainees to remember in the process of caring for shock victims, I didn’t feel too bad about using it to my advantage. In fact, I didn’t feel bad at all. The funniest part was having the other victims (and some of the trainers) ask me in “real time” if I were ok at different points during the day because I really looked like I was going into shock. Who knew you could excel at such things?? If only I could turn it into a way to generate funds….hmmm….

Throughout the day my “wounds” got progressively worse. I started with just a few scratches and ended with a giant burn across my face and left hand with blood covering both. One of the best things about the day was that Luis Cataldo let them put make-up on his right hand, which has four of his fingers missing from an accident a long time ago. The look on faces when he walked in with blood (hair gel and kool-aid) dripping from it was priceless. One of the worst parts was during the last simulation when the guy who was supposed to act demon possessed broke a rib in real time.

The pictures below are some I shot throughout the day. I didn’t get any of the last three simulations, which is too bad because the fake wounds were REALLY intense by then. All in all, it was fun. I had a great time, but was ready to go home once it was over. The night ended nearly 18 hours after it had begun and I was met back at the GPR by my love and a warm car. I plan on doing this again.

The Answer Was ‘Yes!’

8 months and 6 days ago, Joshua Inez Bocanegra sat down across from my father at IHOP (don’t mistake this for the prayer room, I mean the good ol’ pancake house) and asked if we could date.  After I came home from work several hours later and we discussed the conversation they’d had….neither of us were sure what Daddy’s response meant.  I mean, really, how to you fully interpret “I’m asking you to take it slow and respect my daughter” and “The truth is that I love all of my kids and I don’t really want any of them to move away and leave me”   ??

This resulted in Joshua asking a second time. Without telling me the answer, he started getting ready to go. Without telling me the answer, he asked me to walk him home. Without telling me the answer, we walked through his house and to the backyard where he asked me if i wanted to be his girlfriend.

The past 8 months and 6 days have held  quite  a few good time and quite a few bad times. Having never been in this situation before, I’ve found loads of dirty things in my heart just aching to be discovered and washed.

You know the type.

Remember that early summer day you went swimming in the lake and put your clothes in a plastic sack so you could wash them when you got home? Remember how you threw them in the trunk and promptly forgot about them? Remember all those hot and  humid days that happened before you found the bag again? Yeah – those kinds of dirty things.

I’ve never felt refinement fire of this nature. I really mean never. Ever.

And through it all, Joshua has remained patient with me. Coaxing me to talk when I’d rather clam shut. Holding my hand even when he’s angry. Rubbing my back and neck when I have a migraine. Reading to me. Buying me mint water. Meeting me halfway. Teaching me about Hebrews; a Savior who’s my High Priest and a City. Telling me he loves me at the start of every morning. Sometimes even texting me at random points throughout the day to tell me that hasn’t changed. He even let me choose where to sit last time we went to church.

I remember each and every date. The first – Valentine’s Day. He cooked me paella. I was so nervous I couldn’t eat much. Tony Cintron came not so long after and ate it for me. After the candle lit dinner, we danced.

Breakfast at First Watch.
Dinner at some Italian place near the river.
My gondola ride.
Donuts from Lamar’s before work.
Taking him to see The Phantom of the Opera for his birthday.
bluestem for mine.
Picking blueberries on the 4th of July.
Taking him to Bonefish grill after my tax return came in.
Eating Ethiopian food on our 7th month anniversary.

I even remember all of our 1/2 dates:

Jerusalem Cafe before he went home for a trip.
Aladdin’s something or other when he ate and I had baklava.
Some tiny taco shop in California before he flew back to Kansas City. Wait…I was barely talking to him…does that count?

As each day passes a tiny bit of distrust chips away. I find that I can love him more and more despite the times I’ve felt failed. Despite the times I’VE failed. He loves me even when I’m dissatisfied with myself, and somehow, I’m beginning to be ok with that. It’s one of the biggest issues I deal with in my relationship with the Lord – letting Him love me when I’m weak. And as I learn to do so with Joshua, I learn to do so with Jesus. I can remember the first time I emotionally shut down with Joshua and he responded by taking me to his house, letting me lay on the couch, covering me with a blanket, and playing his guitar till I fell asleep. I cried a lot that night. It was the first time I really realized what a wonderful man he is.

Joshua, 8 months ago you asked me if I were ready to take this walk with you. I do not regret the answer. Thank you for loving me the way you do. For walking with me and reaching for my hand. For making me laugh and being my friend. For learning how to love Christ, that I may follow as you lead.

I love you.

Lessons from Zoe – Part 1

I watched Kelsey brush Zoe’s hair a few days ago and somehow, amidst the clamor of that event, the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart. Since the majority of the world has never been present to witness Zoe getting her hair done, allow me to explain the process.

It is essential to get her really distracted with something that will keep her sitting down. After said distraction kicks in, you have to throw a towel around her shoulders and start getting her hair wet. Since Zoe is 1/2 African American and 1/2 Mexican, you can’t brush her hair when it is dry because it is so curly. After the water comes the detangler. Once she is thoroughly doused with both, you must start brushing at the very bottom, working your way up the curls. It takes several minutes. Generally at this point some kind of wrestling ensues. Your’e lucky if it’s a day she wears her curls down. Usually we put at least some of it up to keep it out of her face and out of her way. Zoe has gorgeous, LOOOONG, curly hair. Putting rubber bands in it is a bit of a battle, but the result is usually stunning. On a good day, you can sneak everything in and she may not pay any mind other than a slight whimper once in a while. Most days there’s crying and flailing arms and screaming involved – it’s hard to tell if they’re coming from Zoe or the current hair dresser.

On THIS particular morning, Kelsey was doing Zoe’s hair and Zoe was not really in the mood. To put it modestly (hey…she may read my blog some day) she was fussing quite a bit. I was vaguely aware of what was going on while I watched the twins. What REALLY caught my attention, however, was not the Beauty Shop Battle, but what happened when it was over. Kelsey finished and walked to the bathroom to put everything away. Zoe, watching her leave, instantly stops crying and, with a huge grin on her face, yells “She’s Dooone! She did it!”

I began to laugh at the fact that Zoe had just put up such an intense fight against getting her hair done and finished with an encouragement to herself on enduring the ordeal. It was only an issue because she’d put up such a fuss, and yet she responded like she’d put mind, soul, and spirit into finishing well. That is when the Holy Spirit stole into my thoughts and whispered “You need to do that too!” It was sobering, to say the least.

How many times in life do I fight and fight against something I don’t want to do and then, when all is said and done, forget the battle and only think about how fabulous I am for finishing?  …not…very often…

I had two thoughts.

1 - Maybe Zoe’s on to something. So many times I’m so embarrassed at my reaction to situations, I have a hard time moving past them. I’m stuck in the emotions I’ve been carrying even after everything is over. What would happen if I threw it all away and just celebrated that a difficult season is done and I’ve lived through it?  That’s not to say that closing one’s eyes to an immature response is always tolerable, after all, I’m not a 2 years old.. I know that pitching a fit and ignoring what’s good for me is wrong (Proverbs 1:20-33 has a lot to say about that) but, after the dust settles, wouldn’t it be better to revel in victory? That leads me to my second thought…

2 – I need to fight a little less. I want to be more willing to go along with the things that are beneficial to my life, even when they hurt or are uncomfortable.  I put up so much resistance to what the Lord is trying to do to refine my heart and character. It would be WAY better to rejoice in the beauty of a situation where I fought FOR the end result, instead of against it. After all…I’m not a 2 year old.

Thanks ZoBo. I appreciated the lesson. From now on, I’d still like to do your hair in peace. After all, you’re turning 3 this week.

Keep it burnin’ burnin’ burnin’

Last night at EGS Mike gave a lot of insight into some specific things I wrote about a week ago in regards to what I was feeling about having a vision to speak and not having a message. For some reason I didn’t post what I wrote. I take a tiny bit of relief from the fact that I know I don’t have a message right now and am crying out to the Lord to brand me again.  Any relief, however, is short lived. I guess I equate it with getting a diagnosis of kidney failure from a Dr. after knowing that something is wrong with your kidneys and then silently whispering ‘I knew it all along!’ and doing nothing but revel in the fact that you have been given a tiny amount of common sense.  I’m happy to know I’m alive enough to realize something is wrong, but I want to do what I must to get better.

If you didn’t hear Mike’s message on leadership last night you really need to get it. It’s both challenging and encouraging (as his messages often are).

That being said…I will now publish what I wrote a week ago.

“The past few weeks I’ve found myself doing things I haven’t done in years. Things like…suddenly realizing I’m alone in my car giving a passionate message about desiring purity to the hundreds and thousands of people who aren’t in the car with me. It’s been a long time since I felt so full that I had to speak out lest I explode. I can remember reading Jeremiah 20 and finding kinship with him when he said “…Then in my heart it becomes like a burning fire shut up in my bones; And I am weary of holding it in, And I cannot endure it.”

More often than not, anymore, when I’m with a group of people who are praying or speaking together, I say nothing. Not necessarily because I am worried about what they think, but because I’m not burning with a message and they don’t seem to need any help carrying things along. I want to burn. I’ve been whispering that prayer to the Lord a lot lately.

I don’t fully know what He’s called me to do. The words I’ve been given over the years generally amount to the same things. Worship. Speaking to nations. Radical pursuit of holiness. But the realistic pictures of these are so vague. I find myself dreaming of the day when I can speak to crowds again, but wondering when He’ll give me another message. Or for that matter, another crowd.

I have not kept up in my studies. It’s not that it’s a surprise to me. It’s just that I am suddenly having a real desire to do the things that I love to do and I’m unprepared to do them. I want to be faithful to the things He’s called me to even when the expressions of them are not currently playing out the same way my dreams foretell.

Jesus, I want to burn. “