the rebuilders and the renovators

You have been renovated to be a renovator.

These words struck me as so beautiful when they left the tongue of the pastor on stage tonight.  And it got me to thinking.  We sometimes get so caught up in trying to be holy that we miss the heart of Jesus entirely.

Some of you will rebuild the deserted ruins of your cities. Then you will be known as a rebuilder of walls and a restorer of homes. -Isaiah 58:12

God has done a lot of tearing down and building up inside of me since I really really chose to let Him.  My heart could honestly be featured on one of those HTV home renovation shows, one where the ugliness of the original is all but unrecognizable when compared to the end result.  And it’s hard to believe that they are the same home.  It is much the same with my heart.  God has replaced depression with joy.  Self-hatred with purpose.  Darkness and selfish ambition with His light and humility.  I sometimes stand amazed at the transformation within me, the peace of God’s presence a deep assurance that He will never let me go back to who I used to be.  Because He knocked down those rotting walls and He replaced the unstable foundation.  I am not built more for eternity, my structure more malleable to His promptings.  Don’t get me wrong; I am still a work in progress.  But finally truly believe that I am God’s workmanship, and that truth has allowed me to find my security in becoming clay in the potter’s hands.

Why does God handle me with such care?  Me, just one fragile being amongst millions of more qualified candidates.  I believe God treats us like His masterpieces so that we can translate the love He shows us onto His other works of art.  He clears the clutter from our hearts so that we can in turn help others sweep up the overwhelming debris that is settling over everything in their own lives.

Here is what I know: We were meant to be picture of peace in a world that is so obviously ridden in chaos.  We were meant to fix what was broken by the flawed nature of the human condition, rebuilding walls that have long since crumbled and restoring homes, building them on a rock that will sustain.

See, when people ask where God is amidst the tragedies of the world, they should be able to look at His people.  When people wonder where He is when they’re drowning in their personal storms, they shouldn’t have to look farther than our hand extended out to help pull their head above the water.

God didn’t change us for our own personal gain, He changed us for His.  He was shaping us for kingdom work, not a light calling in an age where the idea of God is so rejected.  But the beautiful thing is that He equips you with everything you need to do as He asks of you, and His son leads by example, Jesus’ life a living testament that surely God is with you where ever you go.  God tends to us, His flock, but then He also appoints us to the role of the Shepard to gather and to care for His sheep who do not yet know His voice.  He renovates you,

So that you can be a renovator.

Stripped down.

I recently read a post that inspired this one. Old Wine and New Skins.  It resonated with me so deeply that here I am two days later writing on my thoughts about sharing raw, real pieces of yourself through writing. I’ll be honest here. I like to hide behind the posts I craft from profound ideas and the artfully worded sentences floating through my brain all day, neglecting a very important detail: the power of my own story.  But here’s the thing.  That’s not simply the way I write, it’s also the way I approach my life- and I really liked Caitlyn’s image of the band aid- allowing people glimpses of the bandages but never fully exposing my wounds for others to see.  I guess it’s just more comfortable to pretend I have all the remedies to heal things myself.

And that is why I want to write this post today, to take a hammer to the walls I’ve built around my soul and to fire the guards I’ve hired to keep anyone from entering the door.  Here’s my promise to all of you starting now.  I am going to try my absolute best from now on to write in naked honesty, no clothing my words behind frills and lace.  And bear with me because it’s not fun.  I don’t remember the last time, if any time, I’ve sat down with a fellow human being and word vomited the contents of my heart as if my life depended on it.  Because it’s awkward.  It’s uncomfortable.  And even behind a screen my heart pounds knowing somebody somewhere may read the fragmented details of a life which God never intended to be broken in the first place.  So in light of the promise I just made to give you nothing but my stripped down soul, I am going to share with you about today.

Rewind to a few hours ago:

Sitting in youth group tonight, we were discussing the strongholds we as young women face.  The topic of image and eating disorders came up; I listened quietly and didn’t think much of it. However afterwards a leader approached me, worried I had been bothered by a certain comment.  Here’s a truth that I often allude to, yet rarely find the courage to straight up say: at fifteen years old, I was diagnosed with anorexia.  I won’t wait until the end of this post to tell you that yes, I am doing just fine now.  God has spent the last few years carving out pathways of healing through the mountains of insecurities, issues, and hurts that caused the disorder in the first place.  As much as I’d like to say it’s all entirely behind me, there are still fears and anxieties that linger.  It must have shown on my face tonight too, because this leader very intentionally approached me on the matter.

What greatly surprised me with tonight was the leader’s boldness to walk right up to me and ask.  I almost never talk about these issues out loud, but I honestly don’t mind sharing about them any time I do happen to be asked.

It’s crazy, really.  How we go through life carrying the weight of unasked questions about ourselves, others, God.  We look into peoples’ eyes and wonder what stories are masked behind them, at least I do.  We wonder to ourselves if we will ever be good enough, strong enough, brave enough to accomplish the plans God has for our lives (the answer is yes). I wonder how long some people watched my color fade away before stepping in with paints and determination to splash the life back into my eyes. But I’ve done the same thing too, knowing deep down a friend needed truth spoken into those dark places I was too afraid to acknowledge were there. However in a conversation earlier today, I looked a girl I know but not very well in the eyes and asked her how her life was. That’s it. I did nothing profound; I simply opened the door to a good conversation about her family and struggles they are going through. I think we as people easily forget, or we neglect, the power we have to reach over and open doors others are simply too scared to open on their own. We avoid these questions for fear of what will be discovered by really digging into the ocean inside another human being. The beauty is, what’s likely found at the murkiest depths are pearls.

We often approach God in the same way we approach people, sidestepping around hard questions we aren’t sure we want the answers to. These thoughts and questions and requests waste away in the recesses of our human brains until we finally wave our white flags in surrender and cry God! Why are you not giving me the answers I need? And if God responded audibly in this situation, I believe he’d say something along the lines of I’ve been waiting for you to ask!

As I sit here thinking about a deeper message I can leave you with to tie everything together, every idea falls short of what I want to accomplish here tonight. And my weary mind begs me to go to sleep as the clock slowly creeps up on 2am, but I desperately want to finish this post. Therefore I am going to settle with this: Allow transparency and authenticity to become engrained in your daily habits. Don’t hide the chapters of your book that set you apart from others, because your story will speak volumes about the awesome character of Jesus if you let it. Your story matters. The parts written, and the pages and pages that have yet to transpire. Also, thank you to all the wonderful people who read my blogs, for giving me a safe place to write. Now give God the pen and sit back to watch Him work. Good night!