That time I acted like a stalker. Sort of.

So...um...I don't know if you've heard, but Campbell?  It's kind of in the middle of nowhere.  It's the kind of place us Southerners call "out in the sticks".  It's the kind of place where the university basically makes up the entire town of Buies Creek.  It's the kind of place where, when people ask where you live/go to school, you have to give them some reference of a distance/time length from a larger city.  You get the picture.

One good thing about going to a small private school with a very nicely-padded bank account is that they have the funds to host concerts.  Usually there's just one big spring concert a year, with a huge name coming.  Last year it was OneRepublic, this year it's the Goo Goo Dolls.  Well, on top of the big spring concert, which is in a couple of weeks, they scheduled an extra, smaller concert tonight.  The guest was Phillip Phillips, who, in case you don't know, won the eleventh season of American Idol last May.  I don't watch American Idol, but I sort of fell in love with his music after he won.  So, uh, needless to say, I was pretty stoked to hear he was coming to the Creek.

The tickets were given out a couple months ago (students got them free), but the person giving them out couldn't tell me if there would be strobe lights at the show, so I didn't want to take a ticket and keep someone else from going to the show and then not be able to use it.  Well, this afternoon, I was tutoring this girl named Paige, whom I really consider a friend at this point, and we were talking about the concert and how excited she was.  She mentioned that a friend of hers works on the Campus Activities Board (who handles all of the concerts) and they had been making jokes about stalking the building in order to run into Phillip.  I told her about how I couldn't go to the show and why, and she said her friend had told her he'd be getting there around 4:00 and asked if I wanted to go over there.  I didn't have anything else to do for a while, so I said sure.

We ran into a couple of guys from his opening band, Churchill, (who is really good, by the way, check them out!) outside the building because the entire first floor of it was basically barricaded off aside from the back stairs so people who had class on the second floor could get up there and even there there was someone posted to make sure no one snuck in where they weren't supposed to be, but all they could really tell me was that yes, there were strobe lights.  I saw one of the Campus Security guys that I know really well, and he told me to talk to the CAB workers who were all over the building.  I found two of them and told them what was up, and they got the guy who is basically in charge of CAB.  He couldn't do anything to help, and I was crying and just about to give up...and then I remembered that I know basically the entire administration thanks to my Uncle Ed.

Now, anyone who knows me knows I'm not one to go looking for special treatment or pull the "my uncle's really important at this school" card, but I was pretty desperate.  So I started calling the ones I knew the best.   The first two didn't pick up the phone so I'm assuming even their secretaries weren't in the office.  The third (the, ahem, President of the University) couldn't do anything but transferred me to the guy who used to be the Dean of Student Life.  His secretary said he wasn't even on campus today, but I told her what was going on and she told me to let her see what she could do or find out, so I gave her my number.  A little bit later, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize but that I knew was from somewhere at Campbell.  Turns out, it's from the new Dean of Students.  She handles really dealing with the students, and the former Dean of Student Life hired her so he could focus on all of the administrative stuff.  If I had known she'd be the perfect person to talk to, I'd have called her first, haha!

This woman?  AMAZING.  Basically the first words out of her mouth were "Oh, I'll get you in."  Turns out, she's the head of CAB.  She told me to let her make some calls to figure out how to make it happen, so I told her I'd go over to the Student Center, where her office is on the second floor, and wait down on the first floor for her.  I managed to get dinner and watch TV, and she came down just after 6:00.  She sat there while I finished eating and we talked, and she was just so, so nice.  Then, we headed over, and basically just waltzed right in the building.  One of the CAB leaders told us which room to go in, and a few minutes later, a bunch of the CAB and Student Government (SGA) members came in (those lucky ducks get to have personal meet and greets with every musician that comes) and we had a meet and greet.

Of course, there were all sorts of rules.  No personal pictures, no signing anything, don't hug him or kiss him (yes, the tour manager actually said that).  Get a picture with him on the SGA's camera, grab a signed photo of him from the tour manager, and get out.  Like, really, all he said to me was "Hi, what's your name?"  But dang, he was so incredibly good looking I'm lucky I remembered my name! :p  It'll be a few days before I get the picture from SGA, but at least I have this to treasure in the meantime.

Seriously, I can't believe stuff like this happens to me.  I am so blessed by God and by this school.  This week is turning out to be even better than I imagined.  I guess persistence really does pay off.  And also, I apparently have no fear.  Or dignity. ;)

Oh, in case you've never heard Churchill's or Phillip Phillips' music, here's a video from each of them.  I've never heard Churchill before today, but I love this song.



This is actually Phillip's "coronation song", aka the song he released immediately after he won American Idol, so it's his most well-known song, but it's also my favorite of his.



Duke visit tomorrow.  Finally.  Yay!

No joking here!

My oh my, 6:30 was a very long time ago.  It feels like forever ago considering I didn't fall asleep until like 1:30.  But hey, I made it through the day!  So there's that.

International Relations.
World Religions.
Tutoring session got canceled.
Easter leftovers for lunch.
Caught up on the Revenge because I was in the car when it aired last night.
Nice long chat with Kyla.  Man oh man do I love that girl.
Trip to the bank to get the cash for Callie and Phoebe's wedding gifts.  Vesper gifts are done!
Phonetics.
Public Policy.
Dinner.
Work.
Make up tutoring session.
Shower.
And now I'm watching Castle and about to do the French grammar assignments that I couldn't do this weekend because I brought the wrong book home.
Then I'm going to collapse because I am exhausted.  I was falling asleep at work.  Good thing no one need my tutoring!

It's April.  I'm so glad it's finally April.  Two days until the appointment with my neurosurgeon, which I am more than ready for, and six days until I'm reunited with five of my favorite people, including one of my absolute best friends in the world. :)

Oh, and North Carolina finally decided that spring-like weather would be a good idea, so it was a beautiful day.  That was pretty much icing on the cake.

He is RISEN!

I don't have time to say a lot because it's almost midnight and I still have to fold all my laundry and make my bed before I can go to bed and then I get up at 6:30.  Yay college.

Anyway, my day started with some early morning babysitting as Mom took Chelsea to work.  Good thing this kid is easy to appease with cartoons at 6:30 am.

After that, I went back to sleep for a while, and then spent most of the afternoon on Blake duty until Chelsea and Mommom got home around 4:15 because Mom was cleaning and cooking.  Good thing, too, because this meal was SO WORTH IT.

Cornish hens, sautéed green beans and onions, garlic mashed potatoes, homemade mac and cheese, fresh sweet corn, and baked asparagus wrapped in bacon and drizzled with butter, brown sugar, soy sauce, and something else that I'm forgetting at the moment.  Oh my word.  That was the first time Mom made those and they were INCREDIBLE!  So incredible that Mom is actually making another huge batch on Tuesday (yay for her being on Spring Break) and bringing me some on Wednesday. :D

We finished dinner just in time for Duke's Elite 8 game, and towards the end of the first half, we had dessert.

Flavored cheesecake from the Cheesecake Factory.  Mom had strawberry and Mommom had blueberry with white chocolate.  I had chocolate mousse, and it was hands down the best cheesecake I've ever eaten.  And that's coming from a girl whose favorite dessert is cheesecake!  I was so amazed by the first bite that I literally forgot to chew it for a minute.  And yes, I really did take a picture after I'd eaten half the piece.  I didn't remember to before I started eating, and if anything of the meal was worth putting on Instagram, this was it!  Classy, I know.  ;)

Mom and I went over to Mommom's house for the second half of the game because Blake wouldn't stop screaming and Mom and Chelsea couldn't stop fighting, so it was just easier this way.  So after I packed the car and before we left, I got one last picture with my sweet boy.  :)

Then we got the heck out of there before he fully comprehended that I was going back to school, because the poor kid goes into full-on meltdown mode when he knows I'm leaving.  He likes me just a little bit. ;)

Duke's second half went horribly, so Mom and I ended up leaving before it was over.  I got back to school about 9:45.  Unpacking, yada yada yada, and now I'm just sitting here listening to worship music reflecting on what this day means.

I've said several times to people recently, "Jesus died so that I could have hope.  Giving up is not an option." And it's true.  He died to give me a promise of a brighter future, an eternity without pain.  That's what I hold on to.  People think I'm strong...I'm not.  He is pulling me through every day one day at a time because I could never handle this on my own.  Never.

I am so blessed to live the life that I do, dysfunction and all, to have the love that I do, in all its forms.  This Holy weekend really hits it home for me just how undeserving I am of all the blessings He has given me and the sacrifice Jesus made on the cross.  I can't earn this, I could never, and to me, that's the most beautiful part about it.

This is another song that I've posted here before.  It's been in my head a lot this weekend because I truly just can't imagine the depth of God's love that is exemplified in this Holy weekend.



This is a song that a blogger I follow posted today, and its lyrics just spoke right to my heart (as cheesy as that sounds).



This is my song right now:

Because He lives, I can face tomorrow
Because He lives, all fear is gone
Because I know He holds the future
And life is worth the living just because HE LIVES.

I hope you all had a beautiful day celebrating our Savior!  Joy to the world, He is RISEN!

And for my Orthodox friend, hope you had a good Sunday. ;)

The Day In Between

Silent Saturday.

That's what I heard someone refer to today, the day between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, as.  And thinking on what the disciples must have felt as they grieved having watched Jesus' crucifixion, I think it fits.  They had been told by Jesus himself that he would rise on the third day, but being human, it's understandable that they were skeptical that he would literally rise from the grave.  Once we lose that child-like faith, we're all doubters.  Yes, he said he would rise again, but what if he didn't?  Such a miraculous feat seems pretty improbable to human minds.  All they knew for sure was that Jesus was gone.  And anyone who has ever lost a loved one can tell you that the silence left behind in the place of that person's missing presence can be deafening.  The Gospels say many times that everyone remembered Jesus saying he would be resurrected and believed it would happen just like everything else Jesus had said would happen had happened...except his disciples.    They were expecting somebody to remove his body from the tomb to trick people, not him to leave death in his grave and come back to them.  So, knowing that, I think this day must have been a day of intense grief and mourning for them.

For everyone else, though, the ones who remembered and believed that Jesus would be resurrected, I think this day was one of anxious anticipation.  It was a day of waiting.  They had just witnessed the Savior they loved and adored be tortured and put to death; now, they had to wait for him to make the glorious return that he had promised.  I wonder how many of them had moments of doubt, times where they thought they were crazy for thinking a man could actually die and then get up and live again.  I know what he said, but will he actually do it?  We all do that, and usually over things way smaller in scale than an event like this.

I see myself and my struggles intertwined so deeply in this.  I've found myself saying numerous times to various people, "I know that God can heal me, but I find myself doubting that He will."  Even when I hear from so many others who know me, even people who don't know me that will saying things like, "I believe they will find out what's wrong and you will get better!"  They're so confident, so sure of what they're saying, and yet I still struggle to truly, fully, wholeheartedly believe that God is going to take away this pain.  It's so hard for me to believe that something will happen while still accepting the fact that it may not, especially when it's something I want so desperately as I want to be free from this pain.  There's always a part of me that thinks I'm going to be stuck with this.

The thing is, though, God's healing doesn't always happen this side of heaven.  21-year-old college seniors get taken to heaven days before their sister's wedding.  Kids join Jesus before they ever really have a chance to experience life on this earth.  Parents leave behind children.  It's stories like this that get caught in my head, that hold me back from having the confidence that my friends do that I'm going to get my healing here on earth.

So I wait.  I wait like the masses of people who waited for Jesus to fulfill the promise of his triumphant return.  Hoping for the best, but preparing for the fact that I may not get what I want.

I wait for answers, praying as hard as I can for those to come with my neurosurgeon appointment this coming Wednesday, and thanking God that so many others are joining me.

I wait to be introduced to the plan that God has for my future.

I wait for more opportunities for Him to use me in the midst of my trial.

And as I wait, I remind myself that I am working on His timetable, not the other way around, and just because I haven't heard from Him yet, that doesn't mean He's not working for my good and to orchestrate the plans for the story He had written for me long ago.  Because He is.  He promises me so, that He has plans to prosper me, not to harm me, plans to give me hope and a future.  As much as it drives this Type A control freak crazy, all I can do is wait.  I have already done more in my life for His glory than I ever could have dreamed possible, so I know that He has something great in store.

When His answer does come, well...I just pray that, unlike the disciples, I will recognize His face.

Why it's good.

"'GOD SO LOVED THE WORLD,' John writes, 'that he gave his only son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.'  That is to say that God so loved the world that he gave his only son even to this obscene horror; so loved the world that in some ultimately indescribable way and at some ultimately immeasurable cost he gave the world himself.  Out of this terrible death, John says, came eternal life not just in the sense of resurrection to life after death but in the sense of life so precious even this side of death that to live it is to stand with one foot already in eternity.  To participate in the sacrificial life and death of Jesus Christ is to live already in his kingdom.  This is the essence of the Christian message, the heart of the Good news, and it is why the cross has become the chief Christian symbol.  A cross of all things - a guillotine, a gallows - but the cross at the same time as the crossroads of eternity and time, as the place where such a mighty heart was broken that the healing power of God himself could flow through it into a sick and broken world.  It was for this reason that of all the possible words they could have used to describe the day of his death, the word they settled on was 'good.'  Good Friday."

- Frederick Buechner, The Faces of Jesus

A writer I love to follow posted this on Facebook this afternoon, and I thought it sums up so beautifully why a day that is in remembrance of a brutal death is called "good."  This is a question I've heard several non-Christians ask, and it's an understandable reaction for someone who doesn't believe in the sacrifice that was made when Jesus went to the cross.

Good Friday isn't good simply because Jesus died.  Good Friday is good because God sacrificed his perfect child to die like this so none of the rest of us would have to.

Good Friday is good because even in his death, Jesus showed the ultimate love when he cried out, "Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do."

Good Friday is good because even though the enemy thought Jesus was dying that day, death actually died in his place.

At least, those are some of the reasons why it's good to me.  It's a reminder and a chance to really reflect on a love that is so far beyond my comprehension.  God gave up his child to protect me, and I get to have a real relationship with him.  In my World Religions class, we've discussed several religions where to the adherents, the supreme god is this unreachable, so far off figure that isn't to be bothered.  But my God wants to know me.  He wants to know the people he sacrificed so deeply for.  I am seen, and I am intimately known.

Through some Facebook and YouTube surfing, I came across this recording of a Sanctuary performance from the end of last spring.  I thought one particular verse was so perfect for Good Friday.  The song is "You're Beautiful" by Phil Wickham.



I see You there hanging on a tree
You bled and then you died and then you rose again for me
Now You are sitting on Your heavenly throne
Soon we will be coming home
You're beautiful

Because he died and rose again, Jesus sits waiting on his throne for God's children to come home to him.  What is more beautiful than the knowledge that he laid down his life for us?  He didn't just die and rise again, Jesus died and rose again for me.  For you.  For my family.  For your family.  For the ones who don't believe.  For the ones labeled lost causes.  For all of us.  Perfect love went to a cross and suffered to ransom me.  I owe him everything, and I'm happy to.

Good Friday is good because the story doesn't end with Friday.  Sunday is coming.

 \

I've posted this song before, but it's something I've been reflecting on a lot today, and I want us all to remember these words as we move through the weekend (and every day, really, but especially this weekend).

On Friday a thief
On Sunday a King
Laid down in grief
But awoke with the keys
Of hell on that day
The first born of the slain
The man Jesus Christ laid
Death in his grave

Ugly and Raw

I'm warning you now - this is going to be one of the ugliest posts I've written in a very long time.  But it's going to be ugly because, for once, I'm going to be completely honest about the one subject that I don't think I'm ever 100% honest with anyone about...because I hate who I am in it.  But this time, I'm leaving my heart open raw, because I just can't hold it in anymore.

20 seconds, if that.  That's how long it took from the time my mom got home tonight for the yelling to start.  And it all basically went downhill from there.  I spent the next 3+ hours trying to smother the urge I had to get up and punch my sister in the face while still managing to enjoy my mom and my sweet, sweet nephew until my mom and I locked ourselves in her room to watch Grey's Anatomy and Scandal while my sister and Blake went to bed.

I haven't even been here 24 hours and I'm already wondering why I bothered coming home at all because right now, even the joy of seeing my always adorable nephew doesn't seem like it's worth the stress and misery of being stuck in this house for even 72 hours with someone who seems to live to terrorize the rest of us.

I've told the few people that I've talked to in the least about this that I love Chelsea...and I really do want to believe that I do.  But I don't know if I can call what I feel for her "love."  I've always said that I would die to protect the people that I love, and I can easily name off many people that that includes: Mom, Blake, Holly, Matt, Ryann, all of the Vespers, Caitie, Kyla, Mommom, and on and on.  But I started really thinking about this question when I was in the shower tonight, and if it came down to it, if I had to choose between giving my life or Chelsea's, I'm not sure that I'd die for her.

And I wish I could accurately describe how much it pains me to write those words, but nothing will ever suffice.  I wish things were different.  I've waited for so long for things to be different.  I've told myself over and over again that next time I would be better.  And it never is.  I walk in this house, and I see how she is, and I remember the 13+ years of torture she's inflicted upon this family, especially my mom....and I just want her gone.  I want her to give custody of Blake over to Mom so he can have a shot at a stable life and just...disappear.  Every time I see my mom cry because she's so stressed from living in this mess 24/7, I think about how much better all of our lives would be if she were just gone.  I think that we could be a normal family that didn't live in a constant warzone if she weren't a part of the equation.

Please, please understand how much I absolutely hate this part of myself.  I hate that I can't love her through the brokenness she calls a life.  I hate that I can't really, permanently forgive her for the damage she has caused.  I hate that I can't be the light of Christ in her life, even for just a minute, no matter how badly I want to.  I hate that I have a hard time remembering that God created her for a purpose just like He created me, or that Jesus went to the Cross to save her just like he did for me.  I hate that I think I'm better than she is.

Because in reality, I know that I'm not.  I know that in God's eyes, I am just as deserving of the brutal death that Jesus received as she is, but it's only because I found my salvation that my eternity looks different.  I know that I am just as broken as she is, and just as in need of a Savior.  I know that my God doesn't play favorites, He doesn't have levels where someone is above someone else, He is fair and just and loves us all equally.

I keep begging for the Lord to change me, but I think that I have to want that more than I want Him to change her before anything will happen, and that's why my family is stuck in this life-sucking quicksand.  I just don't know what it's going to take for that to happen.  I don't know what else I need to do, what else I need to say to God, what I need to lay at the foot of the Cross before I can witness God's merciful redemption of this horrible saga just like I've seen Him redeem everything else in my life.

And what scares me the most is that at the rate things are going, my family isn't going to be around long enough to see it happen.

Celebrate

It seems that the days where I can't even manage to get out of bed for the majority of the day are happening more and more frequently.  I forced myself to get up to eat but that's it.

That means I missed yet another day of classes as well as small group today.  I'm not sure which frustrates me more.  One thing is for sure - my teachers are angels.  They all could technically fail me for absences but instead have told me not to even worry about it.  They just want me to get better.

I don't know what else to say.  I'm exhausted.  I'm frustrated.  I just want this pain to be gone.  But I'm not worried.  I'm slightly amazed that I'm not worried, but I'm not.  God is with me.  And so many people are praying for me.  God says that wherever two or more are gathered in His name, there He will be.  So that's a good reassurance.

I'm tired, but not enough to give up.  I'm going to keep living, and I'm going to live for Him.  Tomorrow I'm going to force myself to get up and go to class.  It's one class, a tutoring session, a quick interview, and then I'm headed home for Easter weekend.

This weekend is the celebration of Jesus' victory over death.  Jesus died so that I could have hope.  Giving up is not an option.  Instead, I'm going to celebrate.  Celebrate the love of a Father that has changed my life. Celebrate Jesus' perfect love.  Celebrate His sacrifice for my utterly broken soul.  Celebrate His victory.  Celebrate the hope I found in Him.

So yes, I choose to celebrate.

Preparation

(Whew.  Nothing like an interview, 3 back-to-back tutoring sessions and a meeting in one afternoon/evening to wipe you out.  It's 11:50 and I'm just now starting this post.)

Last night, right as I was getting ready to climb in bed, I got this text from a friend.

"I find it more than a little interesting and coincidental that you would be attacked in such a way the day after you experienced so much joy participating in worship.  It seems that when we have those moments we are attacked the most to see if we will hold on to what we have gained.  I will continue to pray that you have the strength to carry on and the faith to hold on no matter what is striking at you."

Yeah, believe it or not, the idea of a spiritual attack never crossed my mind once in the mess that was last night until I got that text.  But once I read it, I really felt like this friend of mine was right.  The timing of it was just too weird.  I think satan was mad that I had experienced so much joy leading worship at church and hadn't let fear hold me back, that he wanted to try to pull me away from that feeling and, more importantly, the God who gave it to me.

But he didn't.  He couldn't.  I wouldn't let him because even through my tears, I could still say that God is good.  And I am so thankful for that.

It's gotten me to thinking, though.  I feel like the closer I grow to God and the deeper my relationship with Christ becomes, the more the enemy is going to try to destroy that, like these attacks are only going to come more frequently.  He's telling me that I need to be ready for them.

So my next question was asking God how I'm supposed to be ready for them, and the answer immediately came to me..

Scripture.

Scripture is wholly and purely absolute Truth.  Truth is the best and only real weapon one can use to combat vicious lies.  I have to immerse myself in Scripture more and more every day in order to avoid sinking into the death trap that is satan and his lies.  This is definitely an area that I can improve in in a major way, and doing so can only help prevent these attacks from crushing me (even temporarily).

I don't have to fight the enemy.  That battle has long been over and won when Jesus took the death I deserve.  I just have to hold on to His Truth to guide me day by day when things are good and to protect myself when things are bad.

How deeply God loves us, to put a guidebook that doubles as armor right in front of us.  My heart aches for the Christians around the globe who don't have access to a Bible.  This lesson I've gotten today just makes me want to treasure mine even more.

And not only is it my protection, it will connect me straight to the heart of the Lord, strengthening my love for and relationship with Him.  It's long past time to make a big change in this part of my life.

When Plans Change

I'll be blunt: Today, I got really, really mad.

Like, sitting in my dark dorm room crying, screaming at God in my head all the questions that have been rattling around in my brain since the time when I realized that this pain wasn't going to go away easily, mad.

I know You can heal me.  Why won't you?

What can possibly be better about me being in this much pain than the story I could tell of Your healing me?

What are You doing with this?

Why can't I just be a normal college student and go to class?

What's the point in this?

Mostly, though, I just wanted to feel Him.  I wanted to know where He is when I'm alone in my room in tears and feeling so incredibly alone that the walls feel like they're closing in on me.

I called my sweet friend Jess because I just wanted to hear someone's voice, and she said what a lot of people say: she doesn't understand how I deal with this.  And it's the fact that none of my friends, no matter how much they love me (and I know how deeply they love me), can really understand how exhausting this is that just adds to the loneliness.  But I just wanted to talk to someone who would let me tell them how angry I am and tell me that it's okay.

I think the thing that strikes the anger in me the most is the thought that all of this, this whole seemingly never-ending painful mess, is so far from what I planned on.  There I go again, thinking about my plans.  From the time I found out I had to have brain surgery just days before I was supposed to move to Campbell, I've been  stuck in this thought that my life isn't going the way I planned it to.  It feels like everything in the world is trying to get in the way of me and my college graduation.  I want to know why He keeps erasing the path to the dream I've fought for for so long and redrawing it straight through the center of valleys that, in the moment, I feel like I will never escape.

None of this makes sense to me.  It doesn't make sense to me that God sees it better that I suffer through this much pain instead of Him healing me.  And for the first time since all of this started, as I sat here crying alone, I felt my faith waver a little.  I felt myself really doubt if God was here and He was taking care of me.

But then I talked to Jess, and after I got off the phone with her, I thought about Pastor Sean's Palm Sunday sermon.  How he talked about in the span of six days, from Sunday to Friday, the people of Jerusalem went from shouting "Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!" which literally means "salvation is here" to screaming "Crucify him!".  Six days was all it took for them to want to kill the man they started out believing was there to save them.  I want to do everything I can to keep myself from turning into that.

I know that God is who He says He is.  I know that He is faithful, because He was faithful to save me even when I hated Him.  And I don't hate Him now; on the contrary, I love Him more now than I have in my entire life.  I can't hate Him just because He isn't doing exactly what I want Him to.  He didn't come here and lay down His life to save me from the physical pain that I live with; He sacrificed His life to save me from sin and Satan, who will do anything to drag my heart away from my faithful Father.

I just want this to make a little bit of sense, because right it makes about as much sense as if you set a book written in Chinese in front of me.  That doesn't sound like too much to ask, right?  But as I sit here, I feel like God is telling me that this doesn't have to make sense to me.  And it doesn't matter if He changes the plans I had for my life, because in their place He's going to write a story more beautiful than anything I could imagine.  Every time I fight and get mad and cry, I'm standing in the way of fulfilling the perfect plan that He has written in the Book of Life for me.  I just have to trust and I have to have faith, things that seem so easy in words but are so hard when the weight of my pain feels like it's about to beat me down.

Hebrews 11:1 says that faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see.  That's why it's so hard.  That's why it's so difficult for non-believers to understand why we believe in the power of Christ.  But Jesus gave us EVERYTHING and all He asks is that we give Him our hearts, that we surrender everything we feel is tying us to this world, lie it at His feet, and hold on to the hope that our real citizenship lies in heaven where none of the stuff that seems so mind-boggling and huge right now will mean anything.

I know how far God has taken me.  Just in case I ever forget, I am reminded of it every time one of my faithful friends comments on the transformation they have seen in me.  And I know that I am never going back to the girl that I used to be, not for anything.  I am His.  My heart is His.  That much I know.  Even when I'm angry, sad, frustrated, and crying so hard I feel like I can't catch my breath, I know that I am His.

When plans change, and I don't know which direction I'm headed or when or where to take the next step, the only choice I have is to hold on to the Light that guides me through every day.  And with each step, my faith grows a little bit more and I draw closer to the Savior who has been next to me from the very beginning.  I just have to trust in the knowledge that the One who knew the number of days I have on this earth long before I was even conceived will never steer me wrong, because He won't.

After all, I serve a God who wants nothing but the best for His children.  That's why He sent Christ to take what I deserve so that I can have what Christ deserves.  I may not know where I'm going, and the questions I have may not get answered until I'm sitting at His feet, but I know who He is.  I know that I don't have to conquer this pain because He already did.

And that is enough.

My Everything

So I realized while looking over yesterday's and Friday's blog posts that I repeated the news about me performing with the worship team.  Oops?  It's been a long weekend, and I was exhausted.  Stuff happens.

Anyway, I didn't fall asleep until about 12:30 last night, and for once it was actually because I stayed up doing homework instead of goofing off.  Needless to say, however, 5:30 came very, very quickly.  When I went to bed, I was sort of dreading my alarm going off, but when I woke up, I basically didn't even care because I was so excited.

I honestly could not have been happier to have been there today.  This is the tweet I posted immediately after I left after the second service.

Like, seriously, y'all, today could not have gone better, in my eyes.  Remember how absolutely nervous I was the day of the first full group practice back at the end of January?  When I got the email on Thursday that I was performing today, my mind immediately went there and how badly I didn't want today to be like that.  I texted Kyla, Caitie, Bruno, and Taylor because they were the ones I told when I first decided to join the worship team that I was performing and asked them to pray that God would help me keep my nerves in check today.

Well, uh, mission accomplished.  Prayers answered.  I wasn't nervous at. all.  :)

There was even supposed to be another girl there singing backup with me, but she didn't come for some reason, so it was just me and the lead guy on vocals.  It was so awesome.  Even during practice, when you could definitely really hear me, I wasn't nervous.  I was singing a lot higher than I normally do, and I wasn't nervous.  The guy backed out on vocals a couple times, and my voice held.  He's super musically talented, and he even told me I sounded good.  I know today wasn't about me, but that made me feel good.

Part of me figured that the nerves would hit once the services started and other people were watching, but THEY DIDN'T.  I was so caught up in praising my God and singing that I could seriously look out and see people watching me and it didn't freak me out at all.

It felt so good to be able to help lead worship today, and I had so much fun.  Now that I know I can do it without nerves, I even asked if I could do it one more time before I leave for the summer.  (Agh, I am going to miss my church family SO MUCH!)

But honestly, the importance of today for me personally goes so far beyond the fact that I did it without nerves.  It was healing.  The last time I performed in front of anyone ever was at my hometown church with the teen worship band before they kicked me out.  That was more than six and a half years ago.  One of the last things I heard before I left that church was about my "lack of talent".  So I didn't perform in front of anyone...until now.  And today, I know I screwed up a few times, but no one here cared.  And I didn't care because I was so genuinely caught up in praising the Lord that I forgot to care what anyone else thought.

One of the things that Pastor Sean said in his sermon was "Jesus is sovereign in your life right now.  He is sovereign, right down to the smallest detail, the things you think are insignificant."  And today was such a sweet reminder of that for me.  Jesus is sovereign, and he cares about every small detail of my life, even things like my nerves about performing.  He went above and beyond what I asked and prayed for about today - I prayed He'd help keep my nerves under control, and instead, he made my nerves disappear.

My sweet Savior, who came into the city where He would die humble and meek and riding on a donkey, was with me today in such a purely joyful way.  Just as He entered Jerusalem and sacrificed Himself to bring peace, He offered me peace in a completely unexpected way.  That's why I'm going to spend the rest of my life singing His praises, not just because of today, but because my life is full of moments like this.  His love ransomed me; I owe Him everything.

Just as I sang this morning, Jesus, You are my everything and I will adore You.