The “H” Word Reserved For Genocide And Root Canals

I have this really ugly, nasty habit.  I have a few of them, really, like biting my nails and eating the lemons out of the drinks I finish in a restaurant, but this one is probably the worst.
Sometimes I compare myself to other people based on their social media sites.
It’s really easy to claim that Facebook is stupid, that you really don’t care if anyone sees what you post.
Stop it.  Stop lying right now.  If you are really telling me that whenever you put up a link to that last Youtube video you found amusing or finally hit “tweet” on that thought you fit into 140 characters, that you TRULY don’t care if no one in the world gives you a little recognition, I am calling shenanigans.  I make this claim all the time, saying I don’t care if people don’t like me, but the moment I see that someone liked a status or favorited (or heaven forbid, actually retweeted!) something I post, I feel a warm, happy feeling of approval.

And I like it. I like it a lot.
It’s not like I thrive on this stuff.  I promise you I don’t sit in front of my computer screen painfully crafting words together for all of the social media world to see and then sit with wide eyes and twitching lips to see who tells me that what I’ve created is good enough.  I don’t HAVE to have this approval, it’s not like it is my life blood and sole purpose for living.
But I’ll admit, it really adds something to my day whenever I know someone gave enough care to something I’ve said that they were willing to take the time and energy to press a button that literally tells me they like it.

“Do I need to be liked? Absolutely not. I like to be liked. I enjoy being liked. I have to be liked. But it’s not like this, compulsive, need, to be liked. Like my need to be praised,” – Michael Scott, The Office

Each time I watch this episode of The Office and hear Michael repeat this quote, something inside me stirs uncomfortably.  I laugh a little too loudly to cover it up. Maybe no one noticed how I squirmed in that moment, because I know no one else felt right.
Right?  My cousin assured me once that I’m not as much like Michael Scott as I tell myself.  ”Honey, you are so much more intelligent and educated and socially aware than Michael Scott. Oh good Lord, trust me,” she claimed, and I could hear her shaking her head at me as she laughed, lovingly of course.

I’m pretty sure more of us struggle with this than we admit.  Everyone is thinking it, I’m just saying it! Right?
I’ve spent a lot of time processing/analyzing/freaking over/praying about why I care about something so flipping trivial as being liked.  It doesn’t make sense really, except for in this season of my life, it plays into my desire to have every stinking thing I don’t have.  I’ve walked through some hard seasons (anyone who has ever been a 16 year old girl can make this claim), but none have been so hard as the past year (oh shoot, let’s get real and vulnerable for the internet, y’all).
People do not like me, and I am well aware of it.  I’m not stupid.
It’s not like I’m entirely alone and depressed and without anyone around me. I’m able to move through my day relatively unfazed by this fact.  I’ve come to a place where I generally ignore it and focus on the good things instead: I know when a rumor is started out of self defense, I have a roof over my head and a family that loves me, I have a job that (barely) allows me to buy the occasional burrito, and I’m dating a guy who has been there for me through even my worst moments but loves me anyway.
Yet even knowing truth and ignoring the rest,  when I am forced to come face to face with reality and have one of these rumors shoved in my face or one more person looks at me and tells me my idea sucks, I’m hit with a whole new wave of frustration.
I like to be liked. I enjoy being liked.
I have to be liked.
Great, now I really am Michael Scott.

In my time praying over this, I found myself turning to the same group of New Testament books I tend to favor.  Sometimes I really like to be selective about the Scripture I accept.  Some of it is REALLY nice, and really affirming.  I love to read through Psalms and praise God for being so freaking cool and mighty and all powerful, and to be encouraged by how He loves me and roots me in His goodness like an olive tree.  I can pass up the bits through Leviticus about laws and rules and forbidden shell fish.  I generally skip the beginnings of books where you get a 5 page list of “and he was the father of this one who as the father of that one who was the great grandfather of this other one”.  It’s pick and choose, really, in my eyes, but I know that isn’t how Scripture works.  And God likes to remind of me that by tossing me the hard ones when I pray about things.
He tosses me gems like this one, which are the ones I like to clump in with the genealogies and shell fish, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t important or true and applicable:

“If the world hates you, know that it has hated me before it hated you. If you were of the world, the world would love you as its own; but because you are not of the world, but I chose you out of the world, therefore the world hates you,” – John 15:18-19

Sheesh.  It’s one thing to not be liked, but hated? HATED? Hate is such a strong word.  Hate is the word that gets you a slap on the wrist as a child or is only applied to things like genocide and root canals.
No one told me when I signed up for this Jesus thing that I signed up to be hated, because let’s be real honest, I’m pretty sure I would have passed that one right up.  But I didn’t pass it up, and I’m really glad I didn’t.  My life has been a roller coaster ride through some wild, crazy, amazing grace ever since I allowed the Lord to pursue my heart.  With that comes Scripture, all of it, and He assures us the path won’t be easy.
Love the Lord, reject the world.  We’re taught it from the beginning.  However,  we really like to overlook the reality of that whole “the world hates you” part of it, and that is such a hard concept to swallow.  We aren’t alone, though, and we never have been.  The verse doesn’t lay out this hopeless sense of rejection and flying solo through this war of hate.  Before anyone ever hated us,  the world hated Christ enough to send Him to a sinner’s death on the cross, and if that isn’t a hate that outweighs hate of genocide and root canals, I don’t know what is.
Sure, I’ve hated someone before, but I can’t say my first reaction would have been to nail them to a giant piece of wood and watch them asphyxiate.  That is an insane kind of hate, but that is the kind of hate that Jesus saw from the world before any of us ever saw hate from another human being.

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will havetribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” – John 16:33

Thankfully, we don’t have to live with this hate forever.  Rumors and lies and blatant disrespect are but fleeting vapors, the repulsive gaseous output of a lost and hateful world, but the Truth that comes from Jesus Christ is a solid, everlasting, priceless foundation.  He is the Creator who formed me from my innermost being and breathed life into my lungs and wrote purpose upon my heart, and He is the same Savior who tasted the bitter sting of death to defeat Satan and save those same hateful people in that same hateful world that sent Him there in the first place.

And if Jesus took that kind of hate from the very people He came to save, I’m pretty sure I can live another day without a person liking my Facebook status. 

Silencing Intimidation For The Sake Of Greater Things

This has not been an easy semester, or year really, for me.
Why, you ask? Well, maybe you didn’t ask, but I’ll tell you anyway because I hate ambiguity/usually disclose more than I should.
Knowing that this is my last semester of school for now makes time pass slowly. I’ve watched my favorite professor show his true colors, my roommate leaves non confrontational, grammatically incorrect notes on the fridge when life doesn’t suit her, I’m serving on leadership in an organization where people regularly tell me my ideas suck, and when people found out I was in a relationship they thought it was a stunt I was pulling for attention.
I’ve battled depression since I was 16, so you know, these things are definitely a piece of cake for me to process.  (Let me just sidebar here for a moment to give you a definition of “sarcasm”. . .)

Tired of combatting the speculations over my personal life and discouragement over my fundraising for Uganda, I finally had enough. I broke down and went to Starbucks as soon as I got off of work.
I sat down with a green tea lemonade, my study Bible, and what is possibly my favorite podcast.  Jesus and I needed to spend some incredibly serious time together, and it needed to be now.
Jonathan David Helser has a podcast called “Born For Greatness” that I recommend for anyone who has ever felt inadequate or scared or has taken a breath on this earth. I’ll give you the link right now, and I won’t be offended if you just stop reading this right now so you can go listen.  Actually, I would rather you do that.

http://www.aplacefortheheart.org/aplacefortheheart/Podcast/Entries/2011/2/3_Born_for_Greatness.html

The thing I love about this podcast is how it opens up with a straight up spiritual punch in the face.

“The exact place you are hit with the most fear is the place you are created to do great things,” 

Let that sink in with you for a moment. Read it again. Good stuff, right?
I find myself often hit with fear.  Fear of rejection, fear of failure, fear of falling flat on my face in front of everyone.  More recently, fear has taken shape in the form of $8,000 and the next year of my life.  After raising around $900 for the World Race, I knew the Lord was calling me to a different path.  Trusting Him and His guidance and going into serious prayer, I withdrew from the Race so that I will be able to spend five months in Uganda.  The money in my AIM account will now go to help other people who will be leaving on the World Race. Although I have people who support me in this decision and I know this is where God is leading me for this season of life, it hasn’t come without a fair share of skepticism which makes fundraising difficult.  I’m going to Uganda independent of an organization, so the fundraising is something I have to handle all on my own and so far I’ve only managed to raise $10.

With this worry on my heart, I sat down to listen to this podcast once again.  Truth ran over me in a new way, as if it were the first time I had ever heard it.

See, fear is a tool of the Enemy which he uses to intimidate us.  The Enemy has to use intimidation because otherwise he is completely, totally powerless. He can’t do anything other an intimidate us, but if we give into that intimidation then he has won.  If I allow the Enemy to intimidate me and place a yolk of fear upon me, then I’m basically telling God that I don’t trust Him to provide.  By allowing Satan to bring me down and discourage me, I’m telling God that He isn’t good, He won’t provide, and I doubt Him.
This is unacceptable.  Actually, it’s repulsive.
It’s rejecting Truth and accepting death, it’s a direct insult to God.  After stepping out in faith and telling Him that I will follow His will all the way to Uganda, if I allow fear to take over, I’m telling God that He is wrong.
No longer will I walk in that lie.  No longer will I believe that death which Satan throws at me.  Instead, I am going to step up and walk in the Truth of who the Lord has made me to be.  Why?

Because when Satan throughs an obstacle in your way, Christ is right there with even greater provision.

All the Enemy can do is try to intimidate me, but if I refuse to give in then he can never win.  Instead, I’m trusting in my God who has promised me great things, who has gone before me and laid out the path, and He knows where every single dollar will come from. $8,000 is pocket change to Him.  No matter what other people think, no matter what rumors they spread or discouragement they throw at me, my God has a plan and a purpose and so much provision in store.  He has shaped my life and written my story so that He is brought the glory and TRUTH will reign. I have no reason to worry, no reason to believe the lies.

The Lord has a plan, He has a purpose, and He never stops providing.  He has made me for great things, to take His name to the nations and share His love with the world. The love of Christ is the power to stop intimidation from the Enemy, to speak truth and life and pour out living water to every corner of the earth.  His provision is great, His love is powerful, and His Truth is constant. Believe it, accept His crazy love for you, and walk forward in truth knowing that you were born for GREATNESS.

Uganda Be Kidding Me! (I’m Going Back!)

Friends, Family, and Faithful Supporters, 

      Over the past year, I have seen God moving like never before.  He has taken me on a journey that has changed my life in unimaginable ways, and with those changes has come a lot of ups and downs, highs and lows, and big steps that I am trusting Him to provide for. With that, I have an exciting announcement to share with you all:

       After coming home from leading a team of high school girls to Uganda in July, I knew that I was being called to leave once again.  Through a few weeks of prayer, processing, and discussion with trusted peers, I signed up for the World Race.  Since I had completed three trips with AIM already, this seemed like the logical next step.  However, over the next few months of preparation for this 11 month journey, I began to see a pattern in the way I answered people’s questions.  Whenever asked which countries I’d be going to, I would list off the 11 without hesitation, but find myself sharing more about how excited I was to return to Uganda.  No matter the question, Uganda seemed to be my first answer. So when our Race route was reordered so that Uganda would be the 6th country we arrived in instead of the 2nd, my emotional reaction was a red flag to me.  Immediately, I went into a process of serious prayer.

   A month later, I reached the difficult decision which the Lord led me to; I will not be going on the World Race after all.  It was really difficult for me to give up this three year old dream, break the news to my squad, and email my mobilizer to make this decision official.  But I knew it was what I had to do, and that God has opened up a door for me to truly pursue the passions He has placed within my heart. 

      This September, I will be returning to Uganda!

     After getting off a Skype call with our contact, I knew this was exactly the place the Lord was leading me.  My heart was bursting with joy, anticipation, and a little bit of fear as I soldified this dream God has placed in me, and I’m anxious to see HIm bring it all together.  Over the course of nine months, I’ll be volunteering in Kampala, working with the same ministry I was introduced to over the summer.   While the road ahead is going to be challenging, I know there is such fullness and joy on the horizon and God has so much in store for my time in Uganda.  Each day I’m waking up anxious to return to this place my heart has called home, to kiss the faces of those precious children and carry Christ’s love and healing to the broken.  This country and these people have captured my heart in a way I cannot explain, and I cannot wait until I am reunited with them once again. 

     As I am going on this adventure independently, I’m still in the process of figuring out fundraising and numbers, but will soon have a plan of action to present.  For now, I ask that you join in my covering this journey in prayer and asking the Lord to open doors of opportunity and provision as I prepare to leave in merely six months.  His goodness is unfailing, and I know that with this plan He has laid out before me, He knows exactly where the funds will be coming from.   For those who have already donated to my World Race, your money will not be going to waste.  Those funds will be going to support others who will be going on the Race, not just sitting in a closed account.  My former squadmates are all incredible people who are passionate about seeing His name made great, and I am planning on trying to financially support a few of them myself. 

  I’ll be documenting my journey and updating about preparation and fundraising from my blog, so I would love for you to sign up for email updates and follow along side me as I prepare to spend nine months in the pearl of Africa, following this dream Christ has made a reality.

In Him,
Sarah 

 

Declaration & Authority

dec·la·ra·tion

/ˌdekleˈrāSHen/:

- The formal annoucement of the beginning of a state or condition

This word holds an entirely new meaning as I look down over my trembling hands at the dozens of faces looking upon me.  I’m sure the legs of this chair will give out and I’ll fall on my face in front of them all, and nothing ruins an empowered night of worship like a bloody nose.
“Say it,” my teammate says, looking at me with a both conviction and hope spilling forth in her voice. “And don’t just speak it, yell it. Declare it; declare it for everyone to hear,”
A lump forms in my throat. How do you declare something you don’t even believe? It feels like a lie, but I know there is no escaping this chair until I say it.

Growing up, I was the most silent child anyone had ever met. Now this holds a sense of irony, because anyone who spends more than five minutes around me now knows that ‘silent’ is probably the last word used to describe me.  I learned to thrive in silence, felt no need to speak up, and doubted every word that came from my mouth.
What could I say that would possibly be important?
Even when I had leaders on my first mission trip pray words over me like “boldness”, I took it with a grain of salt and shrugged it off.
They are just saying that. They don’t know me. If they really heard me speak, they wouldn’t say that kind of stuff. 

Let me tell you now, that was not the voice my Father has placed inside me speaking to me.  I’ve lived far too long under the lie that I’m not worthy, that my voice doesn’t matter.  For far too long, I’ve allowed the Enemy to trick me into thinking that silence is okay, and that using my voice has no purpose. How do I know this is a lie?
Because there is a certain kind of power and authority that comes when we choose to speak and utilize the voice we have been given. 

The world began with a voice.  God is almighty and all powerful and He could have created the world in any matter He pleased.
“And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light,”
- Genesis 1:3
The third verse in the entire Bible brings this to our attention. God said; He didn’t just think it or physically mold it, He simply spoke and the light came into being.  By the power of His voice, there was light.
There is a distinct permanence in words.  Once something is said, you can never take it back. You can apologize and explain, claim it wasn’t how you meant it or you were speaking from anger, but even once forgiveness has been granted, the mark is still there.

But words were not created to be weapons, and when the Lord gave us a voice He didn’t intend for us to use it for destruction.  Our voice is one of the most powerful things we have.  It gives us communication, worship, expression, and individuality.  With our voice, He also gave us responsibility.  We all have an individual story to tell, our own experiences to share, and through these stories and experiences, individual lives can be touched.
Boldness was a word spoken over me that I shrugged off, but once it was spoken there was no forgetting it.  I was forced to face the reality that not only had I been given a voice, but I had been given Truth.  I knew of this love, this freedom, this mercy, this grace which Christ was pouring out on us, of the place He was preparing for us in Heaven, and by staying silent I was keeping this to myself.  I have been given this precious gift, and instead of sharing it I’ve kept it all for myself, which is useless.
I’ve seen the horrors hidden in the darkness, seen the look in an orphans eyes, and seen the evil which runs so rampant throughout the world.  With these experiences, I’ve been given something other people have not; a voice.  Not all who are suffering can speak for themselves.
And by declaring boldness over my life, a new condition was awaken, a new start has begun.  I was changed and there was no turning back.  I knew I had been given a voice, and from there on it was crucial how I chose to use that knowledge.

Our experiences shape us and teach us, they mold who we are.  Through these experiences, Christ awakens a conviction within each of us and begins to access the passions He wrote upon our hearts when He formed us in the womb.  Through these passions, we discover our voice and the freedom we have been given.  He has given us the authority to speak life and usher in His Kingdom, to be an advocate for those who cannot advocate for themselves and to see freedom come where there is so much held captive. He has given every one of us a story, every one of us a VOICE. It is all about how we choose to use that power He has placed upon us, how we access that boldness and step forward in just 20 seconds of insane courage and choose to speak Truth in authority.
With simply one word, a life could be changed. Your voice carries POWER, FREEDOM, & AUTHORITY.  The Lord of the universe has placed His love inside your heart, His passion in your veins, and enabled you to bring Kingdom and Light to the broken and captive. By simply the power of words spoken in Truth, DARKNESS MUST FLEE.

So standing on a chair above the 20 something women who accompanied me to Thailand, I take a deep breath and let out these words I’ve been told to repeat;
“My voice has power and what I say matters!”
“Again!” Of course she wasn’t satisfied with my first attempt.
Deep breath again, a little louder this time.
“My voice has power and what I say matters!”
A head shake, but I notice the way her smirk is beginning to show.
“Louder!”
Blood pumping loudly through my ears, hands tingling out of control, entire body shaking with anxiety and something I can’t quite identify.
“MY VOICE HAS POWER AND WHAT I SAY MATTERS!” 

Two years later, the truth of that statement is finally settling in.
And I’m declaring it from every corner of the Earth.

When Dragons Aren’t The Only Beasts Worth Slaying

Everyone knows that girl who they just want to be.
Don’t lie. We all have one.
That girl who just has it all together. The one who can wear the ugliest outfit known to man and still look perfect.  Or maybe the one who can say quirky things and everyone thinks it’s just so funny.  Or maybe even the one who gets an edgy haircut and suddenly the whole world starts doing the same thing.
I’ve seen my fair share of them in my life, and I’ve given them far too much attention.
If I could only be funnier, thinner, wittier, smarter. If my hair weren’t so curly, my cheek bones weren’t so weird, hips weren’t so wide. If I were a little more graceful, loving, patient, faithful.
If I were anyone but me, then life would be easier. 

I’ve spent the better part of my life enslaved to the beast of comparison.  Never content with being myself, I constantly adapted bits and pieces of my personality from outside places.  I’m notorious for quoting certain episodes of The Office and most of my mannerisms were learned from Lorelai Gilmore.  All fashion choices and hairstyles were only chosen once someone else had proven it was cool, but I’d take my own subtle twist on it so I could seem original. There isn’t anything I can distinctly call my own, because my traits and mannerisms are really a collection of the places and people I’ve encountered.

A lot of my friends like to say I’ve “served my time” on all girls mission trip teams.  For the past two summers, comparison and I have dealt with community in a group of women.  That alone could inspire it’s own blog series, but just know that the best place for comparison to thrive and destroy is in a group of all female missionaries in a foreign country. Someone is always less disgusting, totally perfect despite all the sweat and humidity. Someone always loves the Lord more than you do, someone is always much more graceful and selfless, always speaks with more wisdom and discerns more clearly and sacrifices more and is basically just an all around better person. Some shine and some fall behind, and somehow it seems I always fall in the latter.

I’m not graceful. I’m not selfless. Humidity makes my hair shame a Chia pet and my skin glisten in the most unflattering way. I second guess everything I think God is telling me, because surely it’s just my own voice.
After 20 years of living with comparison, it starts to weigh down on you. It may not seem like it, but hating yourself takes a lot of work. It’s tiring, it’s ugly, and frankly it’s just not worth it.
So I quit. Simple as that, I quit.
Well, it wasn’t simple really. It was a really messy, tear stained, broken process.
But the decision in itself was simple.

“For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
¹⁴ I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
¹⁵ My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
¹⁶ Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
    when as yet there was none of them,”
- Psalm 139:13-16

I wasn’t made to be someone else. I wasn’t a mistake. I’m flawed by my sin and my human nature, but who I am was never wrong. Long before I was even a thought, God carefully, lovingly, and intentionally formed me as an intricate masterpiece. He saw who I would become, what He made me for, and He was glad. He scripted a plan for me. My purpose isn’t a haphazard doodle on a coffee shop napkin. My story is a best selling novel, carefully planned and woven together with great intent.

“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them,”
                                    – Ephesians 2:10

He made me just the way He saw fit and loves me more than I can ever even begin to understand. When God sees me, He doesn’t see the girl who laughs too loudly and pierces with sarcasm.  He sees a beautiful daughter whose off key singing and fumbled steps bring Him more joy than anything else. When my Papa looks down upon me, He doesn’t see the girl held down by comparison, broken in need of change, to be more like this or more like that. Instead, He sees Sarah, His perfect creation who is choosing to walk forward and dance in the freedom of knowing that she is indeed fearfully and wonderfully made. He sees a world changer, a faithful servant, a chosen daughter fighting for His kingdom. My efforts aren’t in vain, my journeys are not without purpose, my steps are not unseen.  He loves me, He chose me, He set me apart for beautiful things. The blood of a Savior has washed me clean.
And simply because He is good and He is merciful, He covers me with steadfast love.  He rejoices in the fact that I am His and He is mine.  Through Him, I have slain the beast of comparison

And I am free, so beautifully free.

On Brown Rice, Boyfriends, And Other Good Things

After a weekend of job training, early voting, and registering for my last semester of school, I needed a break.  My friend Hannah needed to buy a new journal, so being the friend with a car (or land tank, as I call my Volvo), I took her out to Barnes and Noble.  On the way back to campus, we made a pit stop at Chipotle so I wouldn’t become a hangry* monster.  Going through the line, I ordered my burrito and watched with wide eyes as it was prepared.  When asked, I chose white rice over brown, as I always do. Hannah shook her head,“Sarah, get brown rice. It’s good for you,” 
“Nah,” I protested, “I don’t like things that are good for me,” 

While said as a joke over a long awaited burrito, I’m fairly certain this statement holds truth in other areas of my life.  See, two weeks ago I aired my dirty laundry shared a little bit of my testimony at a Cru weekly meeting.  Since I emcee the meetings, speaking wasn’t new to me, but for some reason I was a nervous wreck.  Why?  For once, I wasn’t cracking jokes or making announcements, I was being real.  I was being honest about my life, my past, my problems, my struggles, my losses and my victories. For once, I wasn’t able to control the image of myself these students saw; I was real, vulnerable, and honest.
It was good for me.
And I hated it.
I hated the lack of control. I hated that I could no longer hide behind a well planned facade of happy faces and undisclosed history. I hated that no matter what I did afterward, everyone would now know how I once failed, even though Christ is brought so much glory through it.

I can unashamedly admit that I am one of those girls who repins all sorts of exercise stuff on Pinterest but never does a thing about it. I hate running with a burning passion and use my exercise induced asthma (It’s a thing, people, a very serious thing) as an excuse to bail on any and all physical activity. I love the idea of exercise, but when it comes down to it I am just lazy. This summer, I invested in a weighted yoga ball with all the right intentions. It’s currently serving as my footrest while I write.
Running, stretching, strengthening, getting in shape so my very American diet doesn’t kill me before I hit 70.
It’s good for me.
And I hate it.

I like to control things, I like to look like I have it all together. New situations freak me out and new people keep me on my toes. I’m not ashamed of my past or the choices I’ve made: they were growing experiences that really made me appreciate grace and how stupid crazy my Papa is about me. The thing I don’t like is how once someone knows anything about those choices, they are free to judge me however they want. The control isn’t mine anymore.
Sharing my story with someone forces me to let go and trust God to control how people perceive me.
It’s good for me.
And I hate it.

My aversion to good things stems from a much deeper issue. Throughout my 20 years on this planet, I’ve had one mindset drilled into me by the Enemy through hardships and my peers, and that mindset has shaped the way I make decisions: I’ve been taught to believe that good things aren’t worth striving for, because not only will I never achieve them, but I don’t deserve them. 
I never aimed for higher than average grades because I didn’t believe I deserved them. I never looked for friends who respected or loved me because I didn’t believe I deserved them. I let my boyfriend talk down to me and hit me because I didn’t believe I deserved better. I let my figure go on the back burner and chose to do nothing about it because I didn’t think I deserved better.

In a way, I was right. I don’t deserve good things. You know what else I don’t deserve? Grace. Redemption. Second chances. The love of a Savior so pure and holy that just a glimpse of His face would end me on the spot.
I don’t deserve good things, but you know what I was given any way? Good things. Holy things. Perfect things. Kingdom things.
As a human, I’m broken. I’m messy. I’m dead.
As a servant of Christ, His daughter and co heir, I’m whole. I’m clean. I’m absolutely alive.
I deserve the worst, but He gives me His best. I deserve death, but He gives me life. I deserve isolation, abandonment, eternal hell. He showers me with love, holds me close in His arms, and has given me His kingdom for all of eternity.

So I’m choosing to believe that, no matter how broken I am, I will have good things. I will choose good things because my Father is the King of Kings and He has blessed me beyond all measure. I will choose good things because as a daughter of the King, I deserve His best. He has the world waiting for me, an unshakeable Kingdom as my inheritance. He made me with purpose, to love His children and speak life into barrenness, to usher in His Kingdom and declare His Truths to those who have lost hope. He empowered me to speak to a generation, to bring change in this time, to go into the nations and make disciples.
He made me to have good things, and so I will choose to reach out and claim them.

“Let them thank the Lord for His steadfast love,
for His wondrous works to the children of man!

For He satisfies the longing soul,

    and the hungry soul He fills with good things,”
- Psalm 107:8-9

(*A state of anger and irritability resulting from being hungry)

Steadfast Love

- stead·fast also sted·fast (stdfst, -fst)
adj.
1. Fixed or unchanging; steady. (esp of a person’s gaze)
2. Firmly loyal or constant; unswerving
3. Unwavering or determined in purpose, loyalty, etc.

Unchanging, firmly loyal, determined in purpose, especially in a person’s gaze. If I try to imagine what a steadfast gaze would look like, I’d use a word more powerful than just “gaze”. This look would be given with intention, from a person who cared deeply and not just on a surface level.
Honestly, thinking about getting that kind of look from someone freaks me out. It’s the kind of look that goes straight past your eyes and pierces your soul; it’s intimate.

When it comes to love languages, I’m a really strange case.
I thrive on quality time with someone, secretly hope for those moments when a friend shows up with a cup of chai, and am the first to tackle you into a bear (cub-sized) hug.
But the moment someone comes at me and initiates, I shoot back into myself like a turtle approached by a frantic child. When someone starts asking to spend time with me more than normal, I immediately feel smothered and want to run. And when someone starts getting a little too affectionate with me, I throw up this huge wall around myself that screams STAY AWAY.

I come from a very loving, warm family where the majority of childhood was spent in a relative’s arms or having my cheeks covered in kisses from my grandparents. So nothing adds up to why I have such an aversion to deeper relationship, to receiving anything from the people in my life.

It was the life I saw outside of my home which attributed to the stone wall of protection so carefully built around my heart. Each sizeable stone placed by the actions and words of others and scrambled in translation by the Enemy. Each defensive layer formed by actions which spoke loudly that I was pathetic, worthless,unwanted. Critique from friends and jokes meant to be light hearted teasing; ”I’d set you up with my friend, but I don’t think I hate them that much”. ”Why would they pick you for that? Obviously she is a much better fit,” Friendships and relationships started in trust, only to see them fall apart and find myself left devestated. “Someone else was prettier, smarter, thinner, funnier, more encouraging”. “He wasn’t really looking for a relationship, you were just useful in that moment, good for a while when the ache was numbed, distracted”. 
I learned a habit of distrust; someone would be a friend one second, a stranger the next and all I’d be left with this an ache in my gut, an emptiness that soon became home to bitterness, depression, self loathing. Why let someone know you when all they’ll ultimately want is what fun they can get from you before they move on to bigger and better things? Over time, each new scernario layers on a thin coat of pain and bitterness, building up years of emotional residue around your heart.
This was the lie I let Satan feed me, and even now in those quiet moments, he still tries to tell me it’s true. Even now he tries to sneak in and whisper in my ear, remind me of the things that happened in the past and pick the scabs off of wounds that are still healing, some newer than others. Instead of listening to the Enemy, my choice was to ignore him and everything else for that matter. To cover it all up and bury it deep in apathy.How can something be a problem if you refuse to acknowledge it’s existence? 

I may not have been acknowledging the problem, but there was Someone else who chose to see it. He looked upon it directly; His eyes saw through my apathy, through my blissful ignorance, pierced through that stone wall of defense placed so carefully around those lingering, sore wounds. Intently, purposefully, steady and unwavering, His precious eyes saw straight to my hurt, straight to my pain, straight to the gouges and scars left by words and actions of the past.

With that firmly loyal gaze upon the ugly wreckage of my heart, Christ hung on a cross and shed His blood to cover the scars and washes away the years of built up residue. Every harmful word, every broken piece of trust was washed away when He made the ultimate sacrifice and paid the price for me. And whenever the Enemy tries to convince me otherwise, my Papa is the first one to fight back.

He reminds me of who I am and who He made me to be, how He formed me perfectly in His image. 
He is quick to tell me He loves me,
He paid the price for me,
I am His beautiful, mighty princess.
I’m a daughter of the Most High King, the Creator of Heaven and earth, the Alpha and Omega. 
No matter how anyone else treats me, speaks death over me, or tries to tear me down, Christ has rooted me in truth and built me up in greatness. My hope is based on a solid foundation, my Cornerstone and shelter of my heart.

And because of this Truth, the sacrifice made for me, that all the pain of built up bitterness from my past suddenly seems so small. It is GONE, He has made it NO MORE. Simply by looking upon me, He has torn down the wall around my heart and set me FREE.

His gaze upon me is unending, unwavering, and steadfast. 

‎”And I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy. I will betroth you to me in faithfulness. And you shall know the Lord,” – Hosea 2:19-20

(This blog was written for my World Race blog, which you can find here: http://saraharant.theworldrace.org. Subscribe and check there for Race updates and ways you can help support me financially in this journey!)