Vulnerability

last July, i wrote this in my journal when talking to the Lord:

“I know that the way I show up before you is the way I show up before people— with all my layers on. my coat, my hat, my best smile, my best hair, but never all of me”

Jesus would you walk me into the freedom of sonship”

to whoever you are, reading this, my question to you is this: 

When was the last time you showed up exposed? naked before Him? is there a deep rooted fear that He would see all you are and tap out? Are there signs that say in bold red “do not cross” across your heart, that keep him at arms length? 

Last summer, God told me that he knew me “ without permission”. As in, he knew me because he was God— not because I let him.

I want to grow into an intimate love. 

The truth is, nothing could ever separate us from his love. Nothing. Not who we are, not who we were—not the worst of our fears.

He bought our proximity. He gained us access. Before the blood we didn’t even have the option to be intimate with the father. But because of Jesus, because of this blood it’s —into•me•you•see, intimacy. 

I want to live in the proximity (proskyneō) he paid for.

Romans 8:28-35

What shall seperate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble, or hardship or persecution, or famine or nakedness or danger or sword?

tomorrow is far away

you are the only boy i've met

who made my tomorrows 

feel so far away

integrity

 Integrity: a word I have been considering a lot lately.

I think for a while, integrity felt intimidating–like the weight of a thousand expectations,

on really weak shoulders.

I think I have always naturally disqualified myself from being someone who would fall within its borders and boundary lines.

I wore the heavy weight of not quite being someone of integrity–all because I failed, and that,  a lot.

What I failed to realize most of all, is that integrity is not a one-size-fits-all formula for perfection.

Integrity is messy. It is not compact, and it is not linear.

I read recently, that integrity isn't about doing something perfectly, it's about wrestling with something faithfully. 

I have never found a more freeing definition.

Reading this was my reminder to lay down the heavy weight of a perfection I was never meant to carry and although this does not excuse sin, it reminds me of Grace.

I may not love others perfectly, but do I wrestle with it faithfully?

I may not forgive instantaneously, but do I go to God for strength to do this constantly?

I may not live out purity of heart, mind and actions perfectly, but do I bring my struggles with this to God faithfully?

Am i easily humbled? Do I carry my cross? Do I lay down my crowns? Am I living a life laid down, am I aware of my need for Jesus??

There are days I am so thankful that the Lord judges by the heart. Because although my actions my fail him, I know that He would see just how much my heart really craves him.

To me, there is no life outside of this one: the one of rising and falling, stumbling and steadying,  forgiving and being forgiven, expecting condemnation, but finding grace.

If you are wrestling the things you don't do perfectly, faithfully with God, then you are a person of integrity.

Our righteousness could never be enough, He says they are like filthy rags before him. I am thankful to be humbled by the reality that Jesus is and will always be the most righteous thing about me. And until I reach the other side, I will continue to wrestle faithfully with the things I do not perform perfectly.

so good it must be true

i remember the butterflies of summer

and how easy it was to believe

that maybe things feel too good to be true

because we don't believe they really can be simply that good

i remember those days on calls with you

and how quickly it led me to believe

that things don't have to be "too good to be true"

not if our God is good

maybe, sometimes, (not always, but sometimes),

things are so good that they must be true