Why I stopped believing in God

It's not that I stopped believing in God, that he exists or that he is the creator of the universe who sent his only son to be a propitiation for my sins. No, my faith in that God has never faltered and I've never doubted his existence. 

But I stopped believing in him. I often look my swimmers in the eye and tell them, "I believe in you, you can do this." But I couldn't tell this to God, because I didn't believe he could do it, I stopped believing in his promises. I couldn't put my faith in him, and I didn't trust him with my future. 

I'm not sure when that happened. It may have been in the hours I spent budgeting every penny I had over and over and over again. It may have been when I stopped seeing sunrises as a breathtaking metaphor of new mercies, but as a sultry symbol of new problems and obstacles. Or  when I stopped seeing sunsets as a doorway to the stars and heavenly glories, but as a doorway to darkness and fear. It may have been when I started carrying my planner and color coded pens in my purse instead of my bible and journal. It may have been when I became comfortable in how I was living. Or it may have been when I stopped choosing joy. 

I don't know when or even why it happened, but I stopped believing in him, trusting in him. I stopped wanting to hear from him. I let myself succumb to anxiety, encouraged it. I lived my life with a constant ache in my stomach, with a dull pounding in my head, with a pressure in my chest that felt like someone was slowly wringing my heart like a wet clothe then undoing it over and over again. I felt my light go out. My passion toward life was dulled and my desire to seek out joy and to find Jesus in the daily was hidden. 

I know I never truly stopped believing (as a bible student I have a lot of head knowledge that even when I don't want to believe, has pointed me to Jesus and I am a firm believer that God has been written on my heart since the beginning of time. So no, I never stopped believing the theologies of God that I have come to know). 

But as I found myself on the floor, in the middle of work, shaking because I was crying so hard because I didn't think I could survive any longer, I realized I didn't want to believe in the God I knew. I didn't want to believe in a God who loved every single person the same. I didn't think it was fair that he cared about my minuscule  problems just as much my friends' major problems. I wanted him to focus his energies on fixing other things. I was angry with him. I was angry with him for choosing to be the God he is rather than the God who fits perfectly into the box of my understanding and desires. And I didn't want to believe anymore. 

But even in that time, he never stopped loving me. He still gave me friends who know how to love me and love me well. He continued to paint the sky with majestic colors in both the evening and the night (which obviously was just for me ;)). He gave me coworkers who allow me to be myself. And he never gave up on me.
 So daily, in the midst of crisis, when I don't want to give over my life, I seek him. I find him in crispness of the California fall evenings. I see him in the development of the babies in my life. He shows himself to me in moon rises and stratus clouds. He speaks to me through the simple words of friends and coworkers. And as he tangibly exemplifies his love for me, I know that I can make it through another day because I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me and because I am loved and chosen and a child of the most high king. 

And I am so very thankful. 

why I'm turning 23 again

I don't know exactly when it happened  or exactly why, but around November of last year, I started telling people I was twenty-three. It wasn't a conscious decision or even one I knew I was making, when people would ask my age, I would tell them 23 and I believed it. Sometime in the four months after turning twenty-two, I stopped feeling 22. My body, mind, and soul had aged at least a year without me even knowing.

I had high hopes and expectations of twenty two, I mean Taylor Swift had an entire upbeat song about how wonderful it was to be feeling twenty two. It was going to be my year. I was a new graduate with plans of beginning my career, I thought I was going to soon enter into a relationship with a man who I had only ever dreamed of dating, I was applying for leases to live with my best friends, my summer had been full of adventure and was only just beginning, and I was feeling 22. What could stop me?

Then, after two amazing weeks in the mountains at camp, I came back to the reality of adulthood with a heart full of love from the Lord, a head aware of how quickly any plans can crumble, and a body covered in bed bug bites. My life quickly went from high hopes and expectations to a hot mess and completely relying on the Lord because I had nothing.

Within one week, I quit my internship that I thought was going to lead me to my career, I lost all my hours at my job where I found my identity and worth, I ended an unhealthy "relationship" which I had begged God for weeks to be a good thing and from Him [but it wasnt], and I moved out of my apartment, put most of my belongings in storage, and began to live out of my car.

I will laugh and joke when I tell you I was homeless/ without a permanent home/ a gypsy, but the repercussions and burden of that month, changed and shaped who I am today and still sometimes effect me . A month into being twenty two and I was completely emptied of myself, my strength only came from the Lord.
Looking back on those first two months of being twenty two, I am thankful for the lessons I learned and the disciplines I was taught. I needed my relationship with God to be the way it became, I needed to not rely on my self and my own ways. I needed it because twenty two was a heavy year. I needed it when I was searching for a job, when I was living with my best friend in a one car garage with no windows and no closet, when my car got broken into and most of my important belongings were stolen. I needed it when I was so broke I had to make the decision between buying food and buying gas. I needed it when I was mourning the death of a mom/mentor/friend, when I told one of her best friends that she died, when I carried in my arms and accompanied her beautiful baby girl and three year old boy to their mommy's "party". I needed it as I watched one of my precious two year olds slowly lose grip of the world and suffer unceasing pain.  I needed it when I felt insecure, on those mornings where I saw no reason to get out of bed. I needed it when I found no worth in my identity in anything in this world.

I needed to KNOW that my life was not my own and that I didn't have to face those things/trials/other powers alone. 

I am thankful for this past year. I am thankful for my weakness, because in it, HIS strength is made complete. Sometimes I wish I could pretend this year didn't happen, that it wasn't that bad [and if I play the comparison game, it isn't]. I wish I could pretend I didn't cry myself to sleep for many weeks. Unfortunately, I can't. This year did happen. But with the heaviness came the ability to see even more joy in the little things and to celebrate even more in the big things. Because even if twenty two was heavy, it was also wonderful. I had the privilege of: being a camp cabin leader for two weeks and two weekends, driving my sister to Texas for college, being a nanny on an amazing trip to Florida with a fantastic family, visiting my sister in Houston, road tripping  to Utah, witnessing one of my closest college friends get married, watching healing happen in a precious two year old boy, checking many items off my bucket list, meeting my new cousin, renewing and creating beautiful friendships, becoming known at a coffee shop, adventuring with my best friends, and SO many more things. I am thankful for pain and loss because the little things and celebrations are so much sweeter.

Adieu 22.
You won't be missed.


Although it is only May and this appears as a pre-birthday post, a farewell to twenty two and a hello to the real twenty three and even though my birthday is still two months [exactly] away. I am already ready for the real twenty three. But I'm not going to live my life in anticipation of a day. Everyday I am  again going to push the renew button and choose joy in my life  because I am not defined by my age, but rather how I live my life [no matter what age] for the Lord. 

pretending the cross was enough

I have probably watched the movie Frozen more times than most children have and more times than a 22 year old should admit to, I'll go ahead and blame the fact that I'm a nanny for about half those times, but for the most part, it was my choice. I'll admit that most of my peers also have become a bit obsessed with the movie, I mean there's an almost modern day flirty romance, the main character is about as awkward as awkward gets, family is put first, the ultimate act of love is self-sacrifice, the queen rules without a man by her side, and there are some pretty catchy songs. It's great. 

But the reason I love this movie, why it resonates so deeply within me, is because of the song "Let It Go." I know, I know, groan, roll your eyes, think about the cliche-ness of it, then hear me out.

For me, this song is my story. It's an anthem of freedom and grace.

I grew up thinking that even with the wind howling like a swirling storm inside, even when I thought I couldn't keep it in, oh heaven knows I tried. I tried to keep secrets. To live a perfect Christian life. I tried so hard to not sin because I was a Christian. Even when I messed up and my life was a hot mess, everything had to be perfect, my soul, my family, my life, everything. When everything was going to hell in a hand basket, when I was in my darkest struggles, I was taught: Don’t let them in, don’t let them see. Be the good girl you always have to be. Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know. Pretend.

Well, now they know. I have let it go. I can't hold it back anymore. I am free. I am free in Christ. It is not by works [or lack of sin or a perfect life] that I have been saved, but it is the gift of God through Christ Jesus' sacrifice of his life. That was enough, the cross is enough.

I don’t care what they’re [the church, my family, the world] going to say, because I have been bought by the blood of Christ. My sins and my shame and my life have been made new. I have been sanctified. The cross is enough. I can let the storm rage on. My God is by my side and I can rest in his unfailing love. I no longer have to try, with no avail, to achieve perfection. In the stormy seasons, I can publicly admit my weaknesses. And The Lord will stand with me and fight for me. In those weaknesses, he is made strong. He is made strong in my homelessness, in my unemployment, in my screw ups, when I don't make the right decision. He is made strong and He loves me.

It’s funny how some distance makes everything seem small. And the fears that once controlled me. The fears of being judged. The fears of failing at being a Christian, all of these fears of what others think, can’t get to me at all. I don't have to hide the fact that I am not perfect. Because no one is. No, not one person. Somewhere on my journey of learning all this, there came the time to see what I could do, to test the limits and break through all of those rigid standards. A time where there were no rules for me. A time where I realized that  I'm free to rest in his unfailing grace. To pursue righteousness. To seek Jesus. To be filled & guided by the holy spirit. That when my heart is aligned with the Lord's, my life will be too. I am no longer bound by the old covenant, by the old rules. But instead, when I am seeking the Lord, the fruits of my spirit will the the fruits of HIS Spirit.

So, I let it go. I let go of what I thought I had to do to be the good girl that everyone thought I was. And I sought out Jesus.

So here I stand
And here I'll stay
Let the storm rage on
I’m never going back,
The past is in the past

Let it go, let it go
And I'll rise like the break of dawn
Let it go, let it go
That perfect girl is gone

I am never going back to pretending to be the perfect girl. I'm here to live authentically. To mess up. To show my flaws. To do life as a human, with other humans. And I hope you are too. I hope that my story of needing to be the perfect Christian is not your story, that you didn't mask who you are and pretend to be someone else for years because it was what the [little c] church was telling you. But if it was and you have learned to live authentically, I would love to hear your story. If it still is your story, and you are still ashamed of who you are and what you have done, know that Christ died for your sin and your shame. I want to hear your story too, I want to be human with you. Seriously.

*I am still learning to articulate my thoughts. If you have found me to be speaking against the word of God, let me know. Or if your opinion differs from mine, I would LOVE to hear it and discuss.

*There is a song that goes "be careful little ears what you hear." This is true. The things we and the children around us hear, subconsciously impact our attitudes and the way we live. Although this song speaks volumes to me about freedom and grace, there are lines in the song that do not with what I morally agree with, and they remind me that I need to guard my heart against the spirits of the world, for from my heart is the well-spring of life.

dear mothers, you inspire me

To mother (verb): to look after kindly and protectively.

I wish the dictionary had some spectacular definition describing a  mother, but all of the definitions fell short of who a mother truly is. However, the verb, to mother, embodies the person who I describe as a mother [i mean, if a mother could be described in six words].

This is for all of the mothers who look after their children, their families, the world. For those who look after kindly and protectively. You inspire me.

Some people are people watchers, I'm a mom watcher. I see moms in both public venues and in the privacy of their homes, and I observe. I observe when moms lose patience, get angry, give up, and take defeat. But I also observe: patience, kindness, discipline, playfulness, excitement, care, protectiveness, and love.

I wrote this a couple months ago,  but couldn't figure out how to end it. I couldn't figure out how express the impact of the mothers in my life. Your children make me a better person. They have shaped who I am today. They have taught me patience when I thought there was none left in me. They have taught me how to laugh in life without harming another person’s spirit. They have taught me how to make messes and get dirty, even when I’m wearing my nice clothes. But I see how you have shaped them. So in turn, it is you wonderful women who are making me a better person. You invest in my life. You care about my well-being. You tell me to text you when I get home after a late night of babysitting.  You give me the right medicine when I am sick. You ask me the hard questions about my life. You care about my spirit, my mind, my body. You have taken me into your families. You have mothered me when my mother was far away. 

You inspire me.

*I began to write this a couple months ago, but I didn't finish it. The mothers in my life during one of my hardest seasons, were so incredibly supportive and caring. Through many conversations, text messages, and  social media comments, I felt so loved. One day, I was overwhelmed with how much "my moms" invested in my life. After babysitting, I had a long conversation with one incredible mom. She had asked me how I really was doing, and in turn I told her. An hour later, my heart was full. Full of love, full of advice, full of stories, and most importantly full of how wonderful my God truly is. So I began to write this. Then recently, the world lost this wonderful woman, this inspirational, bright light, who loved the Lord with all her heart. So I finished what I started. 

Thank you Brenna for inspiring me, for investing in me, for caring for me, for mentoring me, for loving me, and for trusting me with your children. I wish you could read this, you are missed.