Why Not Me

I believe in God being a God of redemption. There is something in remembering, in strolling through the memory halls of my heart and still holding out my hope.

We ask for the miracle and then doubt reality when it materializes.

We justify it away, fill with disbelief, run questions through our hearts.

I am too tender to take courage in the face of what I want.

And so I ask the million dollar question: Why me?

I am just a shy, simple girl who buried her nose in books when she was young and hoped with every inch of her innocent heart for a way to break out of the monotony of daily rhythm, to find a love that was true and fierce, to connect the poetry of life with beating hearts. And maybe, just maybe, I could change the world with my smile.

Why could I deserve anything great? Get the most treasured desire of her heart fulfilled?

Is God that good? Could what I desperately hope for be something that pleases Him?

Hope is that stubborn flame that will not be quenched. That soft surge of light within that unfurls its rays to break open the tightest corners.

All my life, I’ve been so afraid to hope for what’s been in my heart. I have dreamed about it with every breath in my bones, but I have also been timid with expressing it out loud for fear it would never come true.

And yet I’ve carried this with me year after year, tucked away inside, and as the months and years stretched by the double, I even began to chide myself for it. Began to turn on the hopeful girl within and tell her every reason why she wasn’t worthy. I’d emotionally beat her down until hope was too bent and bruised to dare show its face, retreating to a dark, stifled space in the basement of my soul to stay in hiding.

But the miraculous realization: it stayed.

It stayed with me, this hope upon hope, this young girl’s dream. It stayed with me as I grew disillusioned and jaded. And every time I begin to doubt, to ask myself questions and feel myself sinking back into what God has done to build up my belief, the verse, “Don’t doubt, just believe” comes into my head. Coincidence? My own imagining? How I wish God would lay it out to me in plain terms and tell my all my hopes are good and well-founded.

I do not want to be afraid, but I have been fearful. He calls me deeper, on top of the water, to glide along the waves.

Who am I to deserve anything this beautiful?

But then, who am I not to?

Why me?

Why not me?

Why not, knowing Him who holds the stars, giving me His best.

Remember this, my heart. Remember and awake, believe.


What did the people think, as they saw You heading towards the Jewel City? What did they believe they would see? The survival of Your people? The placement of a new King? They had waited for Your arrival for millennia, and now You appeared, shifting Your weight on the seat of a donkey’s foal. How their eyes must have lit up, sparked to life by the glimpse of their Savior. How the whispers glided from mouth to mouth: “He is here! He has come! To free us from our chains of burden!”

Branches snapped away from trees, laying as pavement on the dusty road ahead.

“Hosanna!” They shouted, dirt-specked faces full of hope.

“Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!”

Sandaled feet slapped the ground as the crowd ran beside You, arms and palm branches swaying in the air as You continued Your entrance into Jerusalem. How excited they grew. How expectant they were of Your reign.

You saw them coming from a distance. Felt their eagerness in Your heart. To fulfill Your Father’s words, the final stretch was spent on the back of a placid mule. The chanting reached Your ears.


“Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord!”



**Read the rest over at ALTARWORK.



Reply To Me

Then call, and I will answer;
Or let me speak, then reply to me.
-Job 13:22


My voice is an echo that reverberates into the abyss. I strain to speak and folly falls from my lips. Pride seeps from my pores; I say I want Your will but do I truly? Am I willing to lose myself to gain life?

You are close, yet I stretch to touch You. I spin myself in circles deciphering Your direction. A thousand nights I search the sky to catch Your eye upon me. Each star blinks, coolly, secrets veiled in an inky canvas.

I know my prayers get caught in jet streams on their way up to You, a little muddled and twisted when they finally reach Your ear. Words are crossed, punctuation forgotten, it is a jumbled mess. Sometimes, I don’t even know what I’m saying when I begin my message.

Then I wait with pensive anticipation. Hoping for a response, afraid I will be left standing in my solitude. Day after day, I send my secrets in exchange for forgiveness, yet when I construct a note for You to notice me, I create it out of crystal and am afraid the edges will brush against the dust of destruction and shatter and scatter back at my feet.

You hear. You receive my words but do not give response and I continue to swell in a tide of torment.

Once. That’s all I ask. For You to roll Your voice against this tempest raging inside me and speak sanity to my soul. For an answer. Just a clue. Something to tell me I am not sailing this sea blindfolded.

The heavens cannot contain You. You give borders to unending galaxies and the angels sing of Your great glory. You are seated on Your throne, mighty, above all. How dare I demand Your presence, offering you every scraped and patched hole in my heart, digging to uncover Your depth? I am selfish, believing I deserve Your conversation. But I linger, still waiting for Your mouth to turn to me with wisdom.

The storm grows stronger in Your silence. Do not let me toss about the waves much longer, for my legs grow weary and my soul faint.

Let It Go

Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.   -1 Peter 5:7

I take up my pen and begin relaying my thoughts onto paper. I talk about trust, how I have more ease of life knowing God is taking care of the how. I begin to describe how God is teaching me this week, for the pressing thoughts continually on my mind. Prayer. Petition. Bringing my requests before the great and powerful Oz of the universe who sits on His heavenly throne and rules with authority.

But I am timid. I am weak and I am fearful. I doubt. Myself, the plans God has for me, even the gifts He has given me. I wonder if I’m doing anything with my life that aligns with His will.

I let the fear fester inside, corroding my heart and blocking off the air canals that guide me to God. Soon, I am so consumed with this confusion I am ashamed to even come before Him. Why would He still listen to me? Hear my prayers? My cries seem to carry across a barren sky and dissolve into the night.

Still I write, trying to somehow break through the surface. I try to not bother Him and begin to think of ways to solve my worries on my own. I wonder whether or not the decisions I make today will mark tomorrow. I can fix things, I assure myself. I can do this on my own.


Read more at ALTARWORK here!

Revive Me

Will You not revive us again, that Your people may rejoice in You?    -Psalm 85:6


My skin is shaking, heart is hammering. There’s this pulsing, rushing ruby in my veins. Sweeping through me, underneath me, to the chambers of my heart. It’s been locked, held securely by a key of hidden hurt. Now the currents push forward and the cracks cannot keep up.

Walls come crumbling, humbling my dry, weary soul. Shock soars through me, a realization of the booming echoes reverberating inside. I’m broken, my heart is stripped to shreds. Marrow seeping, eyes are bleeding out the salty tears I’ve held at bay.

There’s a hole in my heart, tightening the remains to shrivel together and steal the breath from my collapsing lungs. My soul hears nothing but slapping waves of regret rattling my shore of surrender.


Read more at ALTARWORK here.


**Photo courtesy of ALTARWORK

Only You



It was good for me to be afflicted so that I might learn Your decrees. -Psalm 119:7

Only You.

Only You can save my heart, even when You’re the only who can cut down deep enough to excavate what needs to go. It is a surgical procedure, and Your scalpel is swift and sharp, but I am finally at the point where I know You want to help me, it’s necessary to my survival, that I allow this surgery to happen.

So I sign over my permission, release my clutching hands from around my heart, leave my flesh exposed, wound open and sensitive to every small speck that finds its way to touch the surface. I am fully trusting You to operate, and receive me well.

It hurts, though. Oh sweet mercy, how Your incisions are painful! My bleeding heart, cut by Your blade. I cup my hands to catch what flows down and hold it all out to You. These intimate, tender pieces—they are Yours. Absorb them into Yourself. I scream out, for I am awake for this procedure and acutely aware of each place You stitch. Every cut I feel, antiseptic stings like madness. But such a fierce burn soon cools to a nurturing salve, even as I twist and coil, searching for comfort.

My chest parted and most delicate organ on display, I am determined to let Your fingers continue to massage, scrape, rearrange. Use the instruments You must, take time to do it right. This holy healing rips my sensors, strengthens my soul. Only You reach where others cannot, bend Your mouth to whisper words that sustain me in this state of suffering. Only You see what will be; bones must break before they reset, scrapes must be swiped clean as to avoid infection from meddlesome debris.


Read more of this week’s post on ALTARWORK here!


**Photo courtesy of ALTARWORK



But as for me, I will always have hope;
I will praise You more and more.
-Psalm 71:14


I’ve been waiting for you.

You probably find this hard to believe. You’re the type who gets overlooked and forgotten. Your days are filled with countless hours devoted to others. You become a caretaker and help others live a greater story than your own. You are plain and ordinary. No one special. Nothing significant to say. You have a full, brilliant, creative mind, yet you do not share because someone might not understand and think it dull. So you settle for a counterfeit contentment, resigning yourself to the monotony of moments and burying your dreams in the dusty corners of a darkened attic, forbidden to climb down into the warmth of reality.


Let Me ask you something.

How does it feel, knowing there is so much swelling up inside yet forcing yourself to stay stagnant? How does it feel to lift your eyes to the mirror and assault yourself with lies of disappointment? How can you hide the longing in your heart? Your core cries with urgency, “See me! Know me! Love me!”

How can you not hear Me calling to you?


Read more over at ALTARWORK here!

Good Morning

Good Morning


Good morning.
Did you sleep well?
Are you ready for another day?
Will you spend it with Me?

Listen to those first quiet breaths as you linger in your bed. Feel the rise and fall of your chest; your lungs giving you life. I want you to treasure today, to see all of its potential. Because it’s brimming with untouched beauty, waiting for your heart to explore.

Can you see the sunrise? Go, take a look out your window. Notice the colors? The blushing pinks and laughing lavender? They reminded Me of your skin and the softness of your smile, so I had to paint them in the sky in hopes you’d see and be reminded of Me.

You’re going to stroll down into the kitchen, aren’t you? I can tell because of the gleam in your eye that’s visualizing a fresh, strong cup of coffee. The song in your soul is light as you take delight in your simple pleasure. And I’ll be sitting in the chair next to yours, watching the way your lips curve to the cup and the way you relish that first sip. You are beautiful when you are content.

I want to keep the sun on your face, use it as a spotlight to see your smile and the glow of your countenance. I want to serenade you with the sky, gift you with flowers from My garden. I want today to be your best day ever. I want you to know that it is Me with the warmth in my heart at hearing the joy of your voice.

My Love, be happy today. Let this morning lead you into peace and passion and the hope that rises softly in your heart. You are precious, your life unfolding like this early morning’s sweetness; dew upon your dreams.

I hope You see me in all you do. I hope My heart is wrapped in yours. I hope that you never forget Me. I just want you to love Me, and see how certain I am of you.

Savor this morning, My Love. May it fill you with the delicate echoes of My heartstrings tugging at yours and let you say that it is a good morning, indeed.

Love Head On


“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.”  -Jeremiah 31:3


What is love?

What is grace?

What does it look like? Your unmerited favor, unearned, given for the taking. How many times is it talked about by preachers, read in the Bible and one of those popular discussion topics? Told a million ways, sung to a thousand tunes. Grace. Covering my sins, easing my burden.

I don’t want the paper definition, the flat word that sits on the page like You’re stiffly sitting on Your throne, tossing out grace to beggars like loaves of bread to hungry stomachs. I want the real thing, the violent, fragrant life in what You say will set me free. Somewhere, it starts in Your love. And I need You to break apart my body so that love goes from my head to my heart. So it can course through me, hot and sticky, crash into my soul time after time, furious foam waves slashing to shore. I need it turning me inside out, knocking me over at the magnitude of Your intimacy. For You to take my hand, pull me close so I can sink into Your solid side.

I want to know what comes when I let love in. When Your presence presses in so still and beats reassurance, when Your lungs move into mine and our breath lifts and falls as one. For You to be alone with me, capturing my attention. For You to fight for me fiercely; spoils of war, I am Your prize. And I’d like to know exactly what You mean when You say You have loved me with an everlasting love. How could there have been no beginning to Your delight, and promise it never ending?

If truth ties my heart together, bind me with Your word. Let freedom fall from Your heart to my chains, clenched around my faith. Grace. Five little letters that contain a universe of revelation. Open me to the waterfall pouring this out unobstructed, abundantly and wildly.


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**Photo courtesy of ALTARWORK

What You Give

As You Give

I don’t want the world.
I want You.

I want Your goodness, Your light, Your innocence, Your mercy. I want You streaming through my bloodlines, tucked into the snuggest corners of my heart. I want Your voice, a string of satin stars in my bleak and searching sky. I want Your patience helping me up every time I fall and Your strength lifting me when I am weak.

Each day I am surrounded by darkness and discomfort. I crave all that is You, all that You are and all that You’ll ever be. I don’t want what the world wants. I want to be different. I want to stand alone, if alone means bringing You to my side. I am no one, but You stoop down to my level to raise me up and whisper that I am someone, that I am Yours. If there is any way I can bring joy to You, I want to find it and offer it up in my meager, mud-caked hands. Because I have been in the dirt and buried in shame, but You’ve covered my grime with grace.

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