Small

I like people who realize the intenseness of their smallness.
People who watch the night sky, eager for the countless lights to shame them back to the depths.
People who like not knowing it all, for it means there's plenty excitement to unveil.
People who think, hope, praise with an open mind, having a personal relationship with the cliché "nothing is impossible".
People who know because of their insignificant smallness, their pride and image is, in fact, not important at all.
People who yearn to stay broken, humble, and low; to maintain a better view of the Lover of their soul.
I'm looking for the things, places, and faces that make me feel small. That's where I'll entangle my roots into the ground.

Together at Last

She flung herself onto Him, wrapping her arms around His neck.  Though He never spoke the words, with their faces close, and eyes closed, the words "I am all you need," radiated off of Him.

Together at last.

As they opened their eyes, smiles broke out across two overwhelmingly joyful faces.  "I thought this day would never come," she spoke in quiet excitment.  Releasing their embrace, He twirled her around saying, "I've been waiting for this moment since the day you were born."

She could feel as her eyes dance, "Really?"

With His charming smirk, He pretended to think about it for a second and answered, "Well, no.  Actually, I have been waiting to be with you since I made the moon.  Since the first time I rose flaming colors of gold, blue, and purple with the sun in the morning.  Since I let the words, 'It is finished' get caught up in the wind on the day of My death."

He wiped the two tears streaming down her face with the side of His gentle, strong thumb.  She couldn't fathom the reality of being here with Him.  The One she had loved to irrevocably before this moment, the One she had lived her small life for, the One that covered her in a love that wasn't found anywhere else.

The pure happiness overwhelmed Him as well as He took her back into His arms -- just as He did throughout her whole life on earth without her knowing.

The longing they had for each other during the wait made this moment difficult to take in, but it was very real.  Their love for each other was very real.

And now, they were together at last.

Walls

If you've ever watched a woman in pain, there's usually a similar scene always painted. When an embrace of comfort is offered, usually by a man, we fight it. We punch and shove and push and resist. We've been hurt before. We're stronger. We're over comers. We're here for, not ourselves, but others. This is done relentlessly.
Almost relentlessly.
Because there's always a breaking point. A point where the water is putting too much pressure on our walls. And a crack crawls through the stone. Our head falls on his shoulder. We try to hold up the walls, but the break grows, and the water flows in. Finally, we release on the only thing that resembles strength or a sturdy foundation. The water reaches our eyes. We fall, and suddenly... We're soft. We're tender hearted. We're usable, vulnerable, teachable.
This is where we're beautiful. This is where we were created for. This is where Jesus sweeps in and caresses our hearts. This is what no other man can offer. This is healing. This is surrender. This is hope. This is humility. This is love.

Waiting

Some Joplin jazz played while the AC's air made the room even colder than the chill that came from our conversation.  I crossed my legs, and took another sip of my carmel frappuccino; never letting my eyes revert from hers across the small circle table, as she let her soul spill from the deepest chambers within, out of her mouth, to me.

"I imagine a heart of glass being dropped onto a large mirror.  And after it shatters, and the pieces scatter, I see my reflection staring back tup at me.  It was my heart, and me who broke it.  The moment I believed him, I did the heart breaking myself."

Soaking it in, I sat straighter at the edge of my chair.  

She continued, "I settled, gave my heart to someone else because I was impatient.  I didn't wait.  Not for him."

The air shifted.  The AC turned off.  I was intrigued, "Who's that?"

"Him," she stated matter-a-factly, "The man who worships like David, is wise like Solomon, and brave like Jonathan.  The man who is obedient to God like Abraham and has faith like Joshua.  He who has Jesus as his closets friend, like Peter.  He who is willing to endure suffering to chase God and spread the gospel like Paul."

"I'm still waiting for him too..." I replied.  "I have found a man, however," I said as hope cast over her eyes, "who has given me flowers everyday -- along with fields, oceans, and sunrises.  I've found a man who deeply believes that I couldn't be more beautiful, and doesn't want to defile my purity.  I've found a man who died in following God wholeheartedly with bravery.  I've found a man stronger than anyone I have ever seen before, with a strength that cannot be beaten even by the grave.  I've found a man who has always loved me, and me alone, genuinely.  I've found a man who is relentlessly pursuing me, even while knowing the dark shadows of my heart.  I've found a man who has been waiting for me, ever so patiently and selflessly, since the day I was born; hoping with his whole being that I would one day fully love Him in return."

He's waiting for you too. 

The Crime of the Good Girl

They're a rare breed these days, with rosy cheeks and a killer smile. You'll find them reading their Bibles, teaching the Sunday school classes, &/or playing on the worship team. You can recognize one by their very put together outfits, mascara coated lashes, and the purity ring on their left ring finger. Their facebook profiles are lavished with verses, they are usually intelligent, and Christian music fills their cars when they turn the key in the ignition.

My name is Elisabeth, and I'm a good girl.

I am a part of a small, quiet society of young women who are overall labeled as good ("adj., morally excellent; virtuous; pious"). Some people respond differently than others upon meeting a good girl. There are those who exclaim, "if only my child would grow up to be a girl like you!"; and then there are times we hear someone sneer under a breath, "Oh... she has the clean version of this song." All the while, we know the truths about ourselves: we're hardly good at all. Some of us fight with our families, or harbor an attitude, or listen to secular music. Then you have me, who does all of the above -- sometimes all at once.

Our real crime, however, occurs after we slip up. Maybe it's rare, but when we get caught up in this world and sin, really trip up behind our "good girl" label -- our worlds fall apart. Guilt consumes us, tears shower our faces, and our hearts break. We cry out apologizing again and again to Jesus. We think of those whom we let down. We worry about the hypocrisy of our label.

The crime is found in our anxiety about our slip up. The Bible says to repent and to ask for forgiveness. But it also says that we were set free by Jesus Christ for the sake of freedom, not because we wore our "good" label long enough. The crime is found in the laws that we create and plug into our lives. We do not get into Heaven by our works, but by our hearts. The crime is found in the forgetting that Jesus knew our sins when they were poured out onto Him while He hung on the cross, and that He still pursues our hearts daily.

Women of God are called to freedom, to be beautiful, spiritual, adventurous, strong, loving beings -- despite any perversion, shameful act, or addiction. We are free of any chains, assumptions, expectations, and labels. We are invited to enter an overwhelmingly grand love story with Jesus, filled with passion, joy, and victory.

My name is Elisabeth, and I am set free.

So are you.

An Inspiration

The AC hummed while pens all around the room skidded across paper. The assignment: the typical, yet ever asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?". She felt her green plaid skirt pushing against her stomach as the question floated through her mind. Suddenly and promptly, she straightened her spine, took hold of her pen, and scribed "Photographer" on the white, blue-lined paper. She stared at the word written in black ink for a couple heartbeats. Then, her eyes fell under it, to the 27 empty blue lines. Without another thought, she crumpled the paper into her palm and put it in the corner of her desk. New paper, new word. "A Mother." True, but we need something more. And then there were two paper spheres in the corner. Again. She scribed "Writer." No. No, no, no. More, deeper, truer. The desk's corner then had a party of three.

The chair constantly reminded her that it was made of plastic as it dug into her back. What do you want to be? Then the word came to mind, flew in, and took hold of her. She couldn't position the pen in her hand, couldn't bring it down to paper fast enough. After loops and swirls, dotted "I"s and crossed "T"s, the answer laid -- almost stood on her paper. "An Inspiration." She knew, then, why she loved to sing, read, capture, create; to talk, share, and learn. "I want to be a voice," she wrote, "a voice that comes out of silence. A voice of reason that doesn't sound reasonable because it doesn't sound normal at all." She wrote and she wrote and she wrote. The wet ink clung to the side of her hand as she filled one line and then the next. "I want to be a woman who knows defeat, and who overcomes it. I want to be a woman who shines with the victory that comes from her Jesus. I want to be a conqueror, an endurer, a difference. I want to be a beauty -- not from my hair or eyes or mouth, but from a determination, a Spirit, and a knowledge that I am capable of change because of the One who changed my heart so completely and irrevocably. I want to be an inspiration."

And she was.

Ladies, This is an Appeal

I think we're doing something wrong. Actually, I know we're doing a lot wrong. We know what we want, we know our way of getting it, and yet the execution of the plan doesn't unfold the way we had envisioned. We're not as high maintenance as people think! Our hearts aren't as complicated as made out to be. Hormones don't help our case, but I think we can agree that the needs of our hearts are few.

Here's the deal: We're walking around with broken hearts. And I know I'm not the only one who knows that it's not necessary and is avoidable. (I know, it sounds like some kind of female-code-blasphemy to imagine.)

We all know how much faster we mature than guys. We know. It's not a secret. And I find that as we follow Jesus and are in the Word, we slowly but surely learn what a Godly relationship is supposed to look like. And we want it. We want that husband that multiple authors of the Bible wrote about. So we look for that in the guys around us. This is where problems fly in like grenades, and with a rumbling explosion our hearts break. Now, I'm not picking on young men, they certainly make life... colorful. But they simply, for the most part, aren't where we are. (On the plus side, they kill bugs and are about 30% stronger than us.) Simply put, a lot of them aren't ready to want to be our Biblical hero husbands, and a lot of them simply don't have what we're searching for. YET. They're growing a few steps behind at this age. They catch up though, Jesus told me.

Now, here's the part you don't want to hear: We're growing still too. I resisted this for a while. I knew everything already, of course. But after we accept this, I find that so much more fulfillment and freedom will be found. The job of a guy's spiritual growth is in the hands of our God and their parents. We can't change em, ladies. And we're not supposed to. It's a humbling blessing if we do, but if we focused on planting ourselves in Christ and blossoming there, our hearts will be filled and comforted beyond the level any man could accomplish.

Trying to impress him with drugs, drinking, or sexual knowledge won't get him to love you forever. Experience in the sheets won't make him respect you more. If Cinderella could get her Prince Charming without taking her dress off, so can you. Swearing, listening to "cool" music, or taking him back after mistakes won't guarantee you a ring on that finger. If anything, you can count on them starting to talk to someone else after you give them all that at this point in their maturity.

So, what would this one stumbling but striving Christian teenage girl do? Keep your body in your clothes, and let some Scripture out. You'll weed out the losers from the winners in no time. Otherwise, it will be hard to do, and your heart will break more times than necessary. Most of us know guys are our weakness, and don't believe for a second that just because we're young Satan won't use that against, ya sister.

Unfortunately, Prince Charming doesn't ride up on a white horse when we sing enchantingly like in fairy tales. They're not that easy to find, especially today. But they're out there. When we follow Jesus, people who also want to live for Him, want a Godly relationship, and seek love forever will come into your life -- in God's perfect timing. And maybe, if you're lucky, one will even ride in on a white horse.

Those Days

I want to be 16 forever. Even when I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my fists, willing for everything around me to stop, for some wild reason the world keeps spinning.

I was babysitting my cousins yesterday. It was raining. Naturally, I figured I’d turn on a movie for them. Suddenly, five year old Lucas yelled while running outside, “Let’s dance in the rain, Lizzie!” That’s what I want. I want to dance in the rain and not worry about the Earth that's rotating under me. I want to be free, have my hair wave behind me, and do nothing. I didn’t realize how much I missed being annoyed by wet blades of grass sticking to my feet.

I’m going to look at a college to finish my degree at next week. Not a big deal. Except, oh wait!, it’s in Georgia. GEORGIA. My home, my church, my friends, my life is in Florida. I’m praying that I’ll hate it when I get there. The scary thing is, I’m fairly certain I won’t. This college has “Elisabeth” written all over it. I have that feeling that Jesus is leading me there, that feeling that people beg for in their lives. Yeah, it’s tearing me to pieces.

Today, I’m in Michigan, on my grandparent’s farm in the one of the smallest of towns. It’s been my home since before I could walk. It’s the perfect time to be here, before I have to start thinking like an adult. This place has always accepted me as I am. Through all the houses and states and countries I’ve lived in, through all the stages of my life, God has blessed me so much through this place. My days have been filled with peace here. It’s been those reading-and-writing-for-pleasure-rather-than-for-a-professor days. Those having-time-to-give-myself-a-manicure-in-a-comfy-chair days. And those being-able-to-do-nothing-as-long-as-you’re-doing-it-with-family days.

It is here I see that Jesus is taking care of me. Even though I’ll inevitably be 17 in five short months, even though I’m (for some crazy reason) looking to live in the mountains of Georgia, He’s taking care of me.

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say, it is well, it is well with my soul.

She Lets Her Hair Down

I picked up my sister from gymnastics the other day. I got there fifteen minutes early to watch her run, jump, and fly through the air. As I weaved through the gym moms to find a seat, she yelled "Sissy!" across the gymnasium. Sure enough, there she was in her leopard print leotard, waving her hands fanatically. I hadn't showered, wore no make up, and was wearing mom jeans (mom jeans: n. high, loose jeans), and yet she was willing to advertise our relationship. She loves and adores without shame or condition.

The girls had to do an exercise in 15 seconds and as hard as she tried, Mia did it in 20 and needed to do it a second time. I could tell she was holding in tears. I know how badly that competitive 10 year old wanted success, and I know how crushed she was when she didn't reach it. She puts her whole heart into everything she does, not afraid of heartache.

On the way home we chewed gum and sang our favorite songs. I knew she was in Heaven. Corinne Bailey's song "Put Your Records On" sounded from the speakers. I told her that that song reminded me of her because of when Corinne sings about having a pretty afro hair do, just like Mia's. In reality, that song reminds me of her because of the theme about letting your hair down and loving life. My sister lives her days true to who she is and without fear. She keeps no walls or masks up. Mia lives with her hair down.

I found I have a few things to learn from her.

My eyes flew open at 2:03 am this morning. I laid in the silent darkness for a good 30 minutes before going downstairs and turning on my computer. That's when I saw it, the words on the screen, "Massive mudslide between Petionville and Rou Frere, homes buried with people inside. First corpse found minutes ago."

A chill ran down my back as my heart began to weigh a thousand pounds. And I did the only thing I could do, and that's get on my knees. They could use your prayers too.

Pounding Nails

She lied. She sinned. Ultimately, she broke hearts. The pain could have been reaped for years if we had let it. I didn't think our friend ship would ever be the same. I found it essentially impossible to put trust in her words after viciously deceptive ones left that same mouth. Part of me would have rather not cared to try at all.

No matter how much I wanted to, forgiveness hardly appeared to be an option.

I was holding fast to a heart with clenched hands, suffocating it. I was what stood in its way of freedom. That breathless heart was mine. It was a captive to my fear of her lies that could resurface if I forgave her. Then I felt a whisper against my soul, what made me so much better than her? What made me the victim?

I thought of my Jesus, whom I claim to love. Putting work, chores, luxuries before Him -- at that I am an expert. I read my Bible and cross it off my to-do list like it's a burden. I find time for Him when He is always waiting expectantly for me to turn to Him, and always wanting one more sweet moment to spend with me. I wonder how many times a day I hurt His heart. I wonder how many times in my 16 years I have put pain in His eyes. I thought of all the times I had little affairs, choosing that song, task, word, or person before Him; just pounding that nail deeper into His hand.

Upon that I realized, finding forgiveness for her may not be so difficult after all.

Let Them Sing Love Songs

I was slapped across the face the other day. Not literally, but I believe the impact of a friend's words hurt more than her hand would have. Here are her painful words: "I remember when you were a poetic, romantic, love-loving girl; lately, you've been sounding like a jerky teenage boyfriend." The sad part is, I knew this was true for it was intentional. I love being a girl; but there are things that come with having two X chromosomes that I don't like. And I find most of these things are a part of relationships with the people around us.

1) I hate being vulnerable. (That "Publish Post" button is looking very daunting and orange right about now.) The possibility of heartache and break over shadows the pros that come with talking to someone deeply for me. I often find it easier to be sarcastic. I don't like trusting people. It's so bad that I yell at my iPod when male lead singers "try to serenade me" with their songs and acoustic strumming. I get discussed because I assume that I'm being lied to. (Now, I know they're not really singing to me, but just let me have this one.)

2) I detest crying. And girls do it. A lot. (No matter how many times I tell myself that I don't have hormones, they still seem to show up.) My policy? If no one saw it, it didn't happen.

3) I don't like wanting to be loved. I wish I didn't care that much. I wish I didn't worry that my feelings, with everyone I come across, would be returned to me. My "jerky boyfriend" self lets it roll off my back, telling myself that I don't care how people think of me, and I'm not romantic whatsoever.

But then the other day... I heard the most beautiful, romantic song on the radio the other day. I bought it and listened to it 2432354257925 times. And I remembered that I love love songs.

That's when I realized something I read a while ago in the book Captivating. God sends us messages about who He is through men and women (Genesis 5:1), and the message we receive through my sisters and me is quite incredible. The vulnerability, emotion, and romance that I try to suppress are all parts of who Jesus is. I thought it was all weakness, but it's a glory that reflects the heart of God. Women want to be desired because God wants to be desired! There is nothing more vulnerable and emotional and romantic than when my God left the Heavens to our broken world, let Himself be hung on a cross for all to see, and still to this day asking me to love Him on a daily basis in return. (1Tim 2:3&4)

On that note, I'm off to sing my new favorite mushy-gushy, nauseatingly romantic song. (:

The Fruits # 4: Love

This afternoon, I took some time to read through letters I wrote six years ago to my husband. A lot of things ran through me as I read those letters. Some of them were funny, didn't make sense, or were beyond cheesy. But sometimes, I would be surprised by my ten year old self. I would read something that stopped me in my tracks and I would need to take a second and re-read it. I was evidently in love with this man that I still haven't met.

Little girls imagine their husbands as one man short of Jesus. Surely he will be handsome, strong, talented, romantic, a leader, 100% dependable, funny, and the bestest best pal. We imagine him with a glow around his body, jealously fighting thousands for our affection. There is no greater dream than to find him and have him fall in love with us, and to spend our days loving him back.

I realized today that those little starry-eyed girls turn into teenage girls. And suddenly our future husbands look different. Our hormones often lead to heartache, and heartache leads to the destruction of the picture of our perfect men and that perfect love. We lose faith in the man we've been waiting for, and to some the idea of living to love him is no longer our such an ambition.

What is love? People seem to be all over the place on this. Thankfully, our Father who thinks of everything wrote the answer as clear as day saying, "This is how we know know what love is: Jesus laid down His life for us" (1 John 3:16). Basically, if you would lay down your life for someone, the odds are you love them. That should be how we determined such a thing. I'm a big believer in the saying "Love isn't a feeling, it's a choice". My professor last year tried to convince me that love wasn't real, but a blend of smells and chemical reactions. I'm no chemist, so I don't know much. But I do know that that feeling or reaction is what I like to call attraction, not love. I do know that that assumption on feelings is the reason why over half of U.S. marriages fail. I do know that I wouldn't be able to stay with a man for ever based off a happening of "chemical reactions".

For those girls wondering if love can be done, there's a second part to that verse I shared earlier, "And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters" (1John 3: 16). This is where I started to stumble. Because it's difficult. It's easy for me to say and honestly mean that I love someone, but acting like it is a challenge for me with my family and friends and fellow believers. What do we do that goes beyond what the 50% of Americans divorcees had done? We strive. We work. And we persist -- as Jesus did. We stop giving people pieces of our minds and more pieces of our hearts. We wake up every morning choosing to find ways to make each other feel loved. We have to love, it's a command -- so I vote we do it with stars in our eyes, just like when we were little girls.

“Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well.” - Noelle, age 6

“You really shouldn’t say ‘I love you’ unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget.” - Jessica, age 8

The Fruits # 2: Joy

I was sitting in my Modern American Literature class today. I was tired, my professor was cranky, and the guy behind me had a cough. The phrase "I hate Mondays" was beginning to get a whole new meaning. That's when a girl Anna, whom I had in my speech class last semester and who I know is firm Christian, walked in and sat down. I watched her as she reached down to take her books out of her bag. Strangely, from where I was sitting it looked like she was grinning. It was annoying. It was an early, dumb Monday morning -- what did she have to smile about?

That's when God said (probably after hitting me upside the head, if He was here) "You best be workin' on your joyfulness, girl." Maybe He didn't say it just like that, but it was close. I've never been good at choosing joy. Looking beyond the circumstance isn't my forte. After that moment of deciding to work on my joyfulness though, my whole day turned around. April 5, 2011 had many things to be joyful about:

1) I'm joyful because the Lord is using me for His purposes in multiple ministries.

2) I'm joyful because even though I don't like the house that my parents just bought, it will go far beyond keeping us safe and warm.

3) I'm joyful to be able to learn to play instruments.

4) I'm joyful that God gave us His word and my ability to read it.

5) I'm joyful to have my newest favorite shirt.

6) I'm joyful to have such a beauitful church family.

7) I'm joyful to have made plans with friends next Monday.

8) I'm joyful that Jesus loves me far more that I can fathom.

9) I'm joyful that I have eternal life with Jesus and my brothers and sisters.

10) I'm joyful to serve a God whom within joy can always be found.

The Fruits: Patience

I used to avoid that part of Galations, where Paul write about the Fruits of the Spirit. Now, I love fruit -- it's my favorite food! But these fruits I hindered away from. Galations 5:22 & 23 was a no-go zone for Elisabeth.

Love. Joy. Peace. Patience. Kindness. Goodness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Self-Control.

Sure love, joy, peace -- it all sounds nice. But I knew that I could never live out those fruits as they are meant to be lived out. It was on my birthday four months ago, however, that when needing encouragement, my Pastor lovingly reminded me of the fruits in a Facebook message. I haven't stopped thinking about the nine words since. God has relentlessly put them on my heart. So, I decided to focus on one fruit a day and work on living it out.

Naturally, I thought I would start with Love, seeing as it is the first one listed. Today, however, I was at a paint store with my mom and she asked me to put a paint sample back. As I walked to the wall covered in colored paper squares, I looked at the sample and you know what it was called? Patience. Well, God, I appreciate Your bluntness, was what I prayed right then and there. So, the King had spoken. April 3rd 2011 was a day of patience for me.

It was difficult, but the Lord always provided me with the ability to show proper patience when I called on Him. Oh boy, I failed often too. But I feel so blessed to have learned what I have learned and to have felt what I have felt. My sister decided to obnoxiously communicate with friends of mine multiple times at church today, and -- through the power of Jesus Christ alone, I assure you -- I resisted the urge to yell at her. And, what do you know, it felt really good to not be mad at her. Also today, a prayer I've been praying for months now has been answered. You know that's one of the best feelings! Waiting upon the Lord does do wonders.

Abiding in Him as filled me with so much praise. I look forward to tomorrow's fruit!

Where the True Joy Flows From

Have you ever had that feeling of being wrapped in the arms of someone you love; and love and happiness fills up to your heart's rim, and you just want to melt?

Well, I'm 16, so I'm gonna go ahead and say that I haven't. But that is how I feel in Haiti. I was sitting in Heartline's guest house near Port au Prince in a rocking chair last Wednesday, and upon resting my head back I sighed a sigh of contentment. Ironic, isn't it? Comparing love and comfort to brutal Haiti. But that's how you feel when you are where you belong.

I realized how odd my romantic parallel was when I wrote it in my journal that day, so I began to wonder why exactly so I love this place so much, why do I feel the most complete and free in Haiti?

That's when the understanding poured in. Everyone in Haiti (to some extent) was like me, and I like them. We were all here -- coated in dirt, sweat, and stubbly hair -- for the same purpose. We, willing to trade in our comfort at home, had a similar heart and a united purpose: to follow God, at all costs. I find that the people who have given up everything to radically follow Jesus are my favorite kind of people.

Today was my first day back at school since the trip. I dreaded it. The thought of seeing those college students, most of them not Christians --not to mention not pursuing Jesus' call -- brought deep sadness. I wanted my on-fire-willing-to-serve missionary friends back! In America there are so many distractions: TV, Internet, media, consumer purchasing, materialistic spending, worrying about physical appearance, school and work stress -- it is being put before serving God. How do I know? Because I do it! ...And I hate it, but I still do it. It still happens because it's hard to prevent. In Haiti, I'm around many people who are only living their days to serve God through serving others. They don't watch TV, spend money (because they probably don't have much), or frantically try to cover up every physical flaw -- because it just doesn't matter in the light of serving Jesus.

When you really are living on the grace of the Lord, you will feel overwhelming love and you will feel exciting contentment. After all, I am in love with the Man who said, " a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his posessions . . . But seek His kingdom and these things [food, clothes, safety, happiness] will be given to you as well" (Luke 12: 15 & 31).

Letting Go

I was sitting in Mother Terea's Orphanage and Hospital for the Sick and Dying in Haiti a couple days ago, holding a baby boy who came to me wet. The room I was in was dark due to the lack of windows and electricity, and the crying of babies and desperate-to-comfort voices was all the filled the building audibly. As I sat on the bench, wondering what exactly caused this child's clothes to feel moist, I felt love tie a rope around my heart. In the heat, unescapable smells, and dire cries, I realized I wouldn't want to be anywhere else at that moment.

I came to the realization that nothing was more important. Holding that beautiful, skeleton-shaped baby was the most crucial thing I could have been doing. That's when I began thinking about people at home, what would they think? Why aren't there more people going into the nations? What could they choose over wanting to feel this love? Money, American houses, fast cars, security, safety? Those things sounded nice. They sounded comfortable. But with that baby in my arms, I knew that those things equated to nothing because of one simple fact: this is what Jesus did His whole life, letting every worldly thing go and living to love others.

I haven't accomplished that goal. I'm embarrassed by how selfish I am actually. But I pray often that my life will always be transforming to something more like Jesus'. That's why I can confidently tell others I would sing praises if God leads me to living in Haiti one day. It will not always be fun, or easy. I most likely will feel overwhelmed, lonely, amongst many other things -- I know this fully. However, nothing would make my soul sing more to live every moment of every day doing the most important thing in life, counting all else at a loss, and trying to love as Jesus loved.

What No One Has Ever Told You About Sex

No one ever straight up told me that I shouldn't have sex. It's a conclusion that I drew up before I was even a teenager. At thirteen I started wearing a ring and told Jesus I was His alone until my wedding night. Because my decision for purity was done so early on in my life, at sixteen I was left wondering much. Why does God want us to wait for marriage to have sex? Why does sex make things everything complicated? Why does it hurt outside of marriage? Why does it inevitably emotionally connect people like it does? I wanted answers. And you might too.

I probably have family and friends shaking in their boots right now wondering what the heck Elisabeth is going publicly to say about sex. I bought a book the other day called "What are You Waiting For?: The one thing no one ever tells you about sex" by Dannah Gresh. While I am reading this book, I will come here to share my findings and share my excitment towards answers about sex - the real kind.

I often read that verse in Genesis, "Adam lay with his wife Eve, and she became pregnant," and thought "Okay, he was SO NOT just laying there." In Dannah's research for her book, she whipped out her Hebrew dictionary and looked up the Hebrew word for sex. The word was yada. This is were things only START to get interesting. What's the Hebrew definition for yada?

Yada

verb. to know, to be known, to be deeply respected

It is also used in verses like these, not just in sex scenarios:

17 And the LORD said to Moses, “I will do the very thing you have asked, because I am pleased with you and I know [yada] you by name.” Exodus 33:17

10 He says, “Be still, and know [yada] that I am God Psalm 46:10

Amazingly, I think the first part of the definition is for women, the second for men. Dannah shares, "Almost every female I've spoken to about this admits that she really isn't yearning for physical touch in her sexual encounters, but is seeking deep emotional caressing. " Women like when when men know them. Beyond what color their eyes are or their favoroite ice cream flavor. They long for something deeper.

"The latter definition of yada - respect - tends to resonate with men. They want to know they have what it takes to receive your admiration," states Gresh. Are you surprised that God would design something so perfect and filling for both the man and woman? I'm not, and I'm overjoyed. Yada is obviously not just a physical act, but something that transcends the physical. At least, that's what sex is supposed to be.

Due to our unfortunate sin, there is another Hebrew word for sex used throughout the Bible. Shakab. This is only used in the Bible when sex is abused, for example in Genesis 19:33 when Lot's daughter gets him drunk and.. "lays" with him. This is not yada. Shakab is defined as (paraphrased) "the exchange of bodily fluids". Yeah, this doesn't sound as fun to me, and it is most definitely not God's sex.

Within yada two people can have total trust, transparency, devotion, and respect. I don't know about you, but when I have sex that's the kind that I want. Why does sex intertwine souls like it does? Come back in exactly a week for some more answers. (:

A Waiting Groom

The groom stands waiting for his bride. His heart pounds against his chest, and he is sure that everyone else in the room can hear it. He is anxious, and his face a little blushed as his eyes fix on the door she is supposed to walk through. Then she appears. Any breath he had in him before was stolen away by one look upon her face. She was stunning to him, and he wanted nothing more in the world. He has offered up his love to her, for everyone to see, giving her everything he had. All the was left was to see if she would take that isle down to him, to a live of love with no end.

Jesus gave me his life and wants me and my love above all else. He is waiting for you and me with an anxious heart. I will choose Him day after day. Will you?

$27 < Cross

During the last six months, I have finally gotten to a place in my life where I make money. I have several freelance jobs and I was getting excited about the cash flow. Too excited, apparently. About a month ago I finished reading "Radical" by David Platt (you can count on me writing about that book in future). At the end of the book, it challenges you to do 5 life changing things, one of those things being to donate your money to a consistent cause for at least a year (in addition to tithing for the church).

Three Angels Christian Academy opened in 2005 by Three Angels Children's Relief, a non-profit organization in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. Students at TACA receive an education, a meal (for most of them the only meal they get each day), and most importantly an opportunity to make a way for themselves in the heartrending world that is Haiti. It takes only $27 dollars a month to sponsor one child, giving them an education, knowledge for a lifetime -- which in their case is life-saving.

$27

I met my sponsor child today. Meet Sarah. She is four years old in the TACA pre-school program. She loves to draw, plays the race car game at recess, and she is thankful for her school because, "I love my classmates." She aspires to be a dancer when she grows up. She lives in a tent with her mom, for her home was destroyed in the 2010 earthquake.

It may seem like a sacrifice, but it's for a brother or sister who has nothing. It may seem like a sacrifice, but what is it compared to the sacrifice that was made for you 2,000 years ago? $27 begins to look a lot smaller in light of the cross.

You can improve a child's life by clicking ---> here.

"The measure of who we are is defined by what we do with what we have." (Vince Lombardi)

Beyond the "I Do"

I believe in arranged marriages. And I don't believe in marrying for love.

My Father picked a boy for me to marry before the day I was born. I had no say in the matter. I was to grow into a woman, and this boy into a man before He would tell us that we were created for each other. To this day my Father refuses to tell me about my future husband, but I'm alright with that. I have a lot to learn before my Father introduces us to each other.

So you see, I won't marry a man because I love him. I don't believe that marrying for love is a good idea at all. To be blunt, I think it's a stupid thing to do. When I marry a man, it will be because I hear God telling me too; it will be because I know that our marriage will impact the world; it will be because I know that coming together as one would bring God all sorts of glory.

I was driving to class today when Andrew Peterson's song “Dancing in the Minefields” came on the radio. I was lost in the beautiful words and acoustic strumming when a realization tugged at my heart: Some where along the way, we created the conclusion that marriage was supposed to resemble a fairy tale couple riding a white horse into the sunset. Now, I'm not and have never been married, but from what I've been taught, that's not what marriage looks like – no matter how nauseatingly romantic your relationship is.

Where in the Bible does it ever say that marriage was easy and was created to make us feel happy, secure, or good about ourselves? No where. This is because marriage isn't for us, it's for our God who loves perfectly. We get to receive a glimpse of how He loves us through marriages; we get the beauty of love in our lives; and we find a forever friend. But marriages are supposed to be used as a man and woman coming together to serve God in ways that they couldn't serve Him apart from each other.

Obviously love and marriage go hand in hand. 1John 3:16 says, “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us.” Jesus' death for our sins was a love expressed through blood and tears and pain. Wow. Not exactly the heartwarming love we find in Disney movies. But you know, that's the only kind of love that I want. Even if I never meet a man who loves me like that, one man already has two thousand years ago, and still does to this day. That is why I praise my Father for arranging my marriage, why I will marry for more than love.

With Everything

Open our hearts,

To see the things

That make Your heart cry,

To be the church

The You would desire.

Light to be seen.

Break down our pride,

And all the walls

We've built up inside,

Our earthly crowns

And all our desires,

We lay at Your feet.

So let hope rise,

And darkness tremble

In Your holy light,

And every eye will see

Jesus, our God,

Great and mighty to be praised.

God of all days,

Glorious in all of Your ways.

Your majesty, the wonder and grace,

In the light of Your name.

With everything,

With everything,

We will shout for your glory.

With everything,

With everything,

We will shout forth your praise.

Our hearts will cry

Be glorified,

Be lifted high,

Above all names.

For You our King,

With everything,

We will shout forth your praise.

Wait . . . It's only Day 3?

Our church-wide fast began last Sunday, and seeing as I'm still raking through my own thoughts, I'm finding it much easier to steal the thoughts and learning of others for the time being. Pastor Jeff of the sensational Lifecoast church wrote this today on his blog. I found it inspiring and thinks that maybe you will too!

On Monday I happened to run into a Lifecoaster and she asked me a question about her fast. She said, “Pastor Jeff, my husband asked me if I wanted a milk shake. I reminded him that I was fasting.” He responded by saying, “Well you are fasting from food. This is a drink. Can’t you have a drink?” She then looked at me with a very puzzled look on her face and said, “I told him No thank you – Did I do the right thing? Or was it o.k. for me to have the milk shake?” I simply said this, “Your fast is a personal thing between you and The Holy Spirit. What did the Holy Spirit tell you about the milk shake?” She smiled and told me that she didn’t feel right in her spirit about drinking a milk shake. I told her, “Then you did the right thing.”

God immediately nudged my spirit as if to say, “Remember this – It’s important!” So perhaps we need to look at this fast in a way that we never have before. It’s not just about the sacrifice we are willing to make. It’s not just about the three or four more times a day we might set aside to communicate with God in prayer. It’s not just about giving our mind and our body a break from whatever it is we are fasting from. Maybe, just maybe, it’s more about learning to seek God in our decision making. We begin with the foods we eat only because those are some of the most frequent decisions we make each day. Maybe God has instructed us to fast on a regular basis to bring us back to the basic function of listening to The Holy Spirit regularly, for every decision. Food is just a good training ground. A training ground of tuning our Spiritual ears into the voice of the Savior. A training ground for listening to what He has to say each time we need to make a decision. A training ground for learning to recognize His voice moment by moment. Then, and only then, can we fulfill what we are commanded to do in 1 Thessalonians 5:17; Pray continually.

1 John 1:7 … if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.

P.S. pay no attention to that picture of the milk shake. =)

Something that also hit home with me this morning was something that fellow Lifecoaster, Cheryl posted on our "Awakening 21 Day Fast" Facebook page. She said this:

"If you are under any kind of "attack" today- remember that it is because you bring honor and glory to the Lord in choosing to be obedient, forgiving, gracious and loving. The enemy knows it and feels threatened. Stay strong , family.. we are on the right track!!!!!"

Oh, I love my church family. (: And my God who isn't finished with me yet.

A Letter to Me

Today is my sixteenth birthday. I'm sure I wasn't the only seven year old girl who longed for this day, who longed to be a teenager -- not only so, but to be sixteen. Countless times I daydreamed and wondered what I would be like at sixteen; what I would wear, and like, and do.

Well, to fulfill my seven-year-old-self's wonderings, I would tell her this . . .

"When you're sixteen, you'll be deeply and irrevocably in love with Jesus. You'll have a fire in your bones to share God's word, and the Lord will open doors for you to do so. By the time you're sixteen, you will have already gone to Haiti many times, just like your Mom does.

At sixteen, you will love nothing more than weekly leading worship at your youth group. Even though you'll be bad at practicing, making music will bring you incomparable joy. You'll play the piano and cello, but will not have reached your guitar-playing dream yet.

When you're sixteen, you will appreciate your family like never before. The degree of how blessed you are to have them will warm your soul. You'll enjoy spending time with adult women more than teenagers. However, God will bless you with a handful of friends who will fill your life with laughter and adventures. And you'll have a wonderful, handsome, God-seeking boyfriend.

At sixteen, you'll still favor ladybugs, strawberries, and dresses that twirl when you spin. At times, you'll be too loud and clumsy. You'll whip out your attitude, much like you do at your age now. Thankfully for you, you're life will be filled with understanding and loving people.

And when you're sixteen, you'll know without a doubt that you will sing Jesus' praises for the rest of your life."

Where a Little Love is, Great Forgiveness Will Be

God re-taught to me a lesson of His forgiveness. His lesson unfolded in a way that I have never experienced before... I was recently given the opportunity either forgive or not forgive a friend. It was a rather new cross road to stand at for me. It was new, because in this case my friend didn't do anything to me or take nor give anything that was mine. This time, forgiveness didn't exactly mean I was okay with an offense done against me.

For me in the last few months, forgiveness meant that . . .

Our friendship was more to me than past choices.

Our friendship was worth more to me than "better" past preconceptions that I had created.

Our friendship needed to be put above my pride, because I'm not above my own sin.

This was difficult, and I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to do it. I couldn't just decide to forgive flippantly like I did to the woman who ran into me at the grocery store this morning.

God didn't like this. So during a church service in which handful of us shared our testimony of previous sin, He broke down the walls. He whispered to me how He forgave me of what I did to break His heart. He touched me with memories of what I have done that fractured our relationship. And in tears, I felt His embrace full of love and all of what love really means.

At that moment, I knew.

I knew that I had been molded, stretched like clay. I knew that I wanted to choose forgiveness. Because there's not a feeling quite like it to be able to say: "Even though now I know what you did, I've never cared for you more."

I Love that "New Journal" Smell

I apologize for the lengthy absence, but the last few months have been a whirlwind of a season for me. Not a bad season, but not one that I don't feel is appropriate to scribe publicly. I've been doing a lot of writing in my real paper-and-pen journal. So much in fact that I've recently needed to start another one! I love it when that happens.

My church (goodness, I love them) is being a church wide fast this Sunday. I feel a fire in my bones when I think of what's ahead! We are a church radical for God, and in turn He acts radically for us. My heart still feels raw to all the Lord did during the fast last year. Extraordinary things are going to happen to my church body, to my family, in personal relationships, and in me. I feel it, and I tremble at the thought.

Because of this fast, I feel this will be the beginning of a new season in my life. Writing about my spiritual "seasons" (which never are alined with weather or school seasons, mind you) isn't new here. And it's the reason why I'm writing now. I feel good, and excited, and ready to write! Praise Jesus, I'm back. (: