If my soul were a home, it would be a little brick cottage. There would be a great big welcome mat, and you could see footprints where it had been trampled a few times. You would have to wiggle the door handle, but in time it would open; it was never locked in the first place.

There would be a cabinet of chipped china, but you would learn to admire the broken pieces because the stories behind them were always worth hearing again. Everything would be a little messy, with books all over the floor and half-filled cups of coffee in every room, but you could tell that the owner liked it that way.

Words would be drawn on the walls in crayons and paint, and you’d recognize that the century-old passages were integral to the entire structure. If you tried to erase them, parts of the ceiling would start to fall and disperse.

The hallways would have “Do Not Enter” signs scattered all over the floors— like they had been removed from the doorways grudgingly but necessarily. Almost all of the doors to the rooms would be open so that you could see the light spilling into your path. You could see that some rooms were brighter than others, but you’d notice the light everywhere—like Someone Else was footing the power bill.

Eventually you would wander into the kitchen, but you’d quickly realize it was under construction. There would be cabinets off the walls; it would be missing an oven and have debris all over the countertops. You would notice the Carpenter in there and ask what’s going on. He might smile at you and say, “Don’t you just love this house?” You’d probably look at Him confusedly because it seems a little chaotic, but He would keep talking, “Just wait—this room is going to be good. It might even turn out to be the very best part.”

---

I’ve been arguing with God lately. My prayers sound a little bit like some of David’s in the Psalms; I’m asking for answers and help and mercy. 

“What are you doing, God?"

"How are you going to use this mess? What do you want me to do here? When will this season of trials be over?”

I don’t have all of the answers yet. I’m still walking around in the piles of dirt, waiting for the harvest. 

My emotions are all over the place, y’all. I feel like a walking Taylor Swift album. 

And since I can be a little too introspective, I recently tried articulating all these feelings to my patient husband. To which he gave me some perspective and brought me down a notch, like husbands and good friends often do. He pointed me to Scripture and to God, toward light and hope and grace. These are the things that are worth our undivided attention. 

Here’s what I’m learning: How I feel about God right now doesn’t matter as much as the truth of who God is.  

Don’t get me wrong, I think feelings are important. The Lord has given some of us the tendencies of introspection and empathy (bless our hearts), and these are gifts that can be used for His glory. But sometimes I feel ALL THE THINGS and get caught up in the madness. 

I know this is entirely off-brand for this postmodern, everyone-gets-a-trophy world—but making decisions and shaping opinions supremely on how we feel is a destructive way to live.  We cannot rely on our emotions over the Word of God. So, while I’ll still be asking honest questions with a side of Davidic lamenting—these days, I am holding onto my Bible like a lifeline, like a healing balm for my heavy heart. These days, I am trying to focus on what I know to be true about God. 

...

Because the one true God is perfect and blameless and pure. He is the beginning and the end. He is a respite for the weary and healer for the hurting. He is the creator, author, redeemer, father, and friend. He hands out mercy and grace to a bunch of undeserving sinners like me. He is just and compassionate and forgiving and miraculous and worthy of all praise. 

He is faithful to the faithless and hope for the hopeless. He knows and sees everything. He is light and peace and righteousness, the unblemished lamb who paves the way and pays the price. He weeps for us and intercedes for us and fights for us. He is the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. He is the way, the truth, and the life. The great high priest, the ruler, the king, the shepherd and servant and savior. He cares for every single one of us. He loves every single one of us. (This brings me to tears; I can't even deal.) He is everything that is good. He does not leave us in our doubting. And He does not alter His character, ever. He is who He is. 

This amazing God sent His one and only Son to take our rightful place on that awful, wonderful cross because of His overwhelming, can’t-measure-it-or-comprehend-it kind of love. Because of Jesus, we have a chance to be free from the chains that all of our mistakes placed on us. Because of Jesus, we can live in eternal and perfect bliss with our God. Because of Jesus, there is a bigger and better and holier picture. Amazing grace, how sweet the sound indeed.

Gosh, every time I lift up my eyes from my own self-centered world, I notice this hard-to-live-out truth: it is a far better thing to focus on Him. I don't know about you, but I need this reminder taped to my phone and dashboard and coffee maker: God has been faithful before; He will be faithful again. No matter the hurts we are experiencing. No matter the valleys we are walking through. No matter the demons we are facing. 

Praise the Lord that real faith is not circumstantial! Praise the Lord that His grace does not waiver and His character is not contingent on our behavior. 

...

If we do one single thing right today, may we allow this Gospel to shift our gaze heavenward.

Glory awaits.  

---

did you know...?

If you sign up for the email list, you'll not only receive the monthly letter (above), but you'll also get exclusive resources and lists of fruitful finds (This month's list included a sermon that might cause you to clutch your pearls at the mention of politics, a book that I can't stop talking about, and a podcast episode with Australian accents!)

YOU CAN SIGN UP HERE.