Lemons, Lemons, Lemons.

Lemons, Lemons, Lemons.

Wednesday, March 14, 2018

Hey you. Yeah, you.

Your negativity is boring az. 

I've been trying to find a way to say this in the kindest, most blogger-ly and gentle way. But the words just didn't come. 

I think we all know what it's like to feel that ugly part of ourselves rise up when we see something that we don't like, aren't comfortable with, or are a little challenged by. Seeing somebody soar or try something new can bring up all kinds of demons. 

When I first started blogging, and people realized I was taking it seriously (ie, not quitting after a few months, or hoping and working towards people actually reading it), I got all kinds of discouraging feedback.

You can't make a job out of that.

Oh, another Christian cliche. 

Isn't that a little ambitious?

And I'm not gonna lie to you, it stung. There's nothing quite like sharing a new passion with somebody and having it shut down immediately. I'm almost positive it's a well-known feeling. At this point in time - I'd tell them to eat my shorts. But back then, I would just nod, smile, and burst into tears. (Just kidding. I ONLY CRY IN PRIVATE, NERDS.) 

Seriously though - if you have an idea that you think is kick ass; I say DO IT. With GUSTO. Especially if there's a firm foundation of calling, thought, and passion behind it. When you hear people talking about things that they'd love to do, be the first person to encourage them. You might be the thing that gets them on their feet and shows them that they can accomplish so much more than they ever thought possible. Being that kind of motivator, supporter, and servant should be energizing you. Not making you feel nasty, jealous, and callous inside. 

I'm really fed up with turning a corner and hearing people whispering about so-and-so trying a new way of expressing themselves. I feel exhausted when I hear the body of Christ judging someone's past when they confess they feel called to working in ministry. I'm sick of ignoring poison-filled comments disguised as just being real, sister! or I love you, but I'm just looking out for you. 

If you come away with anything today, it should be this; DO EVERYTHING YOU CAN TO ENCOURAGE AND GUIDE PEOPLE WHO WANT TO HAVE A POSITIVE IMPACT IN LIFE - AND ON THE WORLD. 

There's a difference between advice and tearing-down. Being realistic doesn't always mean that's impossible. Let people enjoy things. Cultivate joy and excellence. Turning lemons into lemonade is exciting. Your negativity is boring. 

And hey - I'm still working on this. I'm trying to catch myself before I shut something down that I might not be comfortable with or that I, in my oh so infinite wisdom, don't think will work out. But I'm conscious of my impact. I'm in love with the idea that people can go beyond themselves and do something amazing. It's not too late to go to your friend and tell her you think she can do it. It's not too late to take that person aside and give them some encouragement. I believe in you. No more lemons. 

xoxo, Beth

What I Know About Healing + Other Reflections

What I Know About Healing + Other Reflections

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Alert. Alert everybody. If you didn't know this already - I am incredibly embarrassing. I say the dumbest things, all the time. And I'm clumsy, too (even while I type this there's spots of tea stains all over my shirt from this morning that I DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE TILL NOW). I've learned to bounce back quickly when a joke lands poorly. If I trip in front of you I'm probably going to laugh rather than blush. I'm gonna get tongue tied for no reason. I've accepted that I'm gonna be awkward sometimes, and I don't sweat about it anymore.

You know what I don't bounce back quickly from? Real, genuine hurt. I don't heal very fast. If it's a little surface thing, if I know in my heart that it doesn't really matter - I'm golden. I'm not saying I'm easily offended. But when I get hurt, I bleed. You can see the pain on my face. And I used to not like this part of myself, I used to try my best to hide it. But now I've come to accept that this is my human response to pain and it is okay. It means I'm not numb. As a person who has both been broken and also experienced some really awesome growth in her life, here are a few things I've learned about healing.

1. Healing requires pain. 

It's not all peace and a waking up in the middle of the night with a light bulb realization that "fixes" you. Sometimes it's opening boxes we wanted to leave in the basement, forever. Sometimes it's bringing to the light something we wanted to hide about ourselves. Sometimes it's opening up just to be shut down. But the very act of opening and revealing is absolutely necessary if you want to take any steps forward.

2. Healing includes knowing where you are right now, and knowing where you're going to be. 

I can remember crying about something in my teens and a darling friend of mine looked at me and said, "Beth, if you want to get through this, you have to deal with what's going on now - but you also have to look to the future." You may be crippled by anxiety right now. But there will come a day - even for just one day - where you can breathe and feel peace and walk with your head high. Be honest about what you're struggling with. But saying, "Some day, I will feel better." isn't distractive or destructive. It's giving yourself a point of hope to hold out for. 

3. Healing admits that you might have to continue to heal. 

It might take more than just one conversation, one realization, one fear conquered. It's not always instant. I wish it was sometimes. The day you're hoping for where you're free from addiction, self-destruction, or grief may not come in the timing you want it too. You might have to come back and talk about something over and over, and over and over, and over and over, in order to truly deal with it. That's okay. (I will say though, that some things are not ready to be dealt with yet. Give yourself the time and space you need away from something before you chip away at it) 

You are not weak if somebody hurt you. You are not too messy if you can't hide your pain. But there are healthy ways to view your process, and unhealthy ways. I promise you, you are not too far gone. You're not. Stop thinking you're beyond grace. Stop thinking your issues are set like cement and can't be unset. Stop thinking you're stuck this way.

I'm not a master at this. I haven't "fixed" myself. My heart breaks in new ways every day. But the more I learn the easier those little waves are for me to ride - the more I've healed the better I can help other people do the same thing.

I Think You Should Go For It

I Think You Should Go For It

Thursday, January 11, 2018

" New year, new me." 

You've heard it, I've heard it, we all roll our eyes and want to punch ourselves in the face. I don't know about you, but during the holiday season when all these inspirational quotes on Instagram and Facebook start popping up, I'm pretty much always sitting on my couch with pie crumbs all over my face (and wearing pants with elastics for a waistband) (it gets even better if I don't even have to wear pants in the first place, #free).

(Personal anecdote alert, please bear with me) When I was in my late teens I mentioned once to a boyfriend that I was trying to expand my musical skills and learn a new instrument (okay - this anecdote isn't going to make him sound very nice, but I promise he was still a gem and a half), and the first thing he said in response was, "Beth, you're never actually gonna do any of that." I think in his mind he was being "realistic". I took it as a declaration of failure before I had even started, and my motivation to learn something new completely fizzled out.

If I could go back as I am now, I wouldn't rely on someone else to dictate whether I was going to be successful at something I hadn't yet tried or not. And I definitely wouldn't quit after one negative comment. 

When I'm scrolling and I see somebody post an inspirational quote or verse, or write a personal list of goals or growth they'd like to achieve over the new year; I don't roll my eyes like I used to. One thing I've learned about pride is that it likes to tell us that we know people better than we really do or that we have magic insight into humanity - when in reality there's so many surprises out there and a lot of humbling to be found in being proved wrong. And you will be.

Part of living in community and creating an environment of love is having an innate joy, and a desire to support and love people through their growth - rather than shutting people down before they even start. Use your mouth to encourage this 2018, before you count somebody out just because they want to try and better themselves. Volunteer readily to help keep them accountable if they're serious about a new phase of growth. The beauty of Christ is that people can change. As long as you have a healthy dose of wisdom and truth while you're encouraging, you're not going to run the risk of puffing up egos. And if that's your big excuse for why your toxicity is okay, I think you need to re-evaluate what you stand for a little bit.

That's why, this year, I think you should go for it. Set some healthy goals. Root yourself in truth and find little (or big) ways to become brighter and softer and full of compassion for your fellow man. Learn how to create healthy boundaries in your life. Don't be afraid to try something new, even if you look silly or it opens you up to rejection. Don't shut people down just because their passion scares you. Find something to be passionate about in your own life. Learn to be comfortable with emotion and explore your strengths and weaknesses. Be open about your struggles, even though it's scary. Become the safe space that you would have needed when you wanted to try something new. Don't let fear stop you from doing good things. Change is not impossible. Growth never stops.

And for those of you still wondering - I did learn to play that instrument. Eventually.

I Cried A Lot In 2017

I Cried A Lot In 2017

Wednesday, December 27, 2017

I think I've started writing this post at least three different times, with a bunch of different titles. To the point that I may have been hitting my head against the keyboard in desperation - maybe. You'll never know. Finally I had to settle on the very honest, but not very eloquent title you had to click on to get here. Sorry bout that. 

But it's true. I've shed more happy tears than any other year. I've also had more really ugly, open mouth, "what-is-tears-and-what-is-drool" kind of cries this year than I ever thought I had in me.

 I've heard it said that 2017 was the best-worst year for a lot of people. I think that's a really great way to put it.

One of the cool things about being on this blog journey is that I get to look back (actually this is not always cool. Sometimes it's really embarrassing) and see what I've written in years past. This time last year I wrote the words; "There's no formula for God's grace. And there's no formula for loving broken people." I think in my smug little mind I wasn't thinking of myself and how those words would apply to me - now that I'm this close to surviving one of the most soul warping years of my life, I feel the words sending shivers through my heart and down to my toes.

Because it's true. You don't earn or deserve grace. Every time you come to the feet of the cross with your hands empty and your heart outstretched - there's no limit and there's no priority line and there's no secret formula. You just get it. That was really, really hard for me to learn. Every time I made a mistake that I thought, "There's no coming back from this one.", God showed me over and over again how my understanding of love was conditional - whereas His love is not. The quote; "Cling to God, and do the next good thing." has become my mantra this year.

I think I'll always look back on this year as the year I really became myself (at least until I hit rock bottom and am forced to grow again. That's often the way life works, in my case at least.) There's something about total desperation that makes you stop caring about looking and acting a certain way. I think I got really tired of being Ministry Student Blogger Cool Christian Girl. Now, to a lot of people, I'm just Girl Who Cries In Class and Wears Weird Clothes and Plays Weird Music in the Cafe. To other people I'm still Goofy Beth. Or Sad Beth. Or Wise Beth. To other people, I'm not really anybody. And all of those are okay. I think this year I finally stopped trying to manage (or mismanage) my personal image. It's okay to be more than one thing. It's okay to be certain things to certain people. And I don't have to be all things to all people - no matter how badly I want to be.

Being honest with yourself and to others about your broken bits and your worn out heart or your empty tiredness is not fun and pretty much always feels like it's counter-intuitive to trying to fix the problem. I would much rather just try harder than take a break and sit in reflection. 

Which brings me to another good lesson I learned this year - "Take a break. Or else." I'm trying to no longer feel guilty about taking a nap or saying no to an event or stopping in the middle of a paper because my brain is mush. Save yourself the mental breakdown. Make some tea and clean your room and sit in the sunshine. Rest is okay and putting things on hold are okay - you just have to make up the difference later. But you'll be amazed at the things you can do when your heart is full and your mind is present. If you find people that can pour into you and build you up when you're down and keep you balanced (in a healthy way), keep those people. They are very, very important. 

I met some really amazing, lovely people in 2017. I have new lifelong friends in 2017. Lies were replaced with truth in 2017. I grew in my faith and have become even closer to God in 2017. I cried a lot in 2017. I fell in love in 2017. I became better and healthier and more genuine in 2017. The future became brighter in 2017.

Thank you to everybody who was a part of my life this past year. Thank you to everybody who was a lesson. I have to give special thanks absolutely to my girl squad of Lord loving, beautiful ladies - you have become some of my biggest supports, and I feel blessed to know and love each of your fabulous hearts. To the people who still continue to read and support this blog - from Brazil to Australia - thank you, thank you, thank you. You have had a front row seat to my growing and my rambling and most days I have no idea why you're here. Thank you to my beloved family. I love and admire you, you make me think and you fill up my heart. 

If there's only one thing I can say to sum up this past year, is that I'm excited to move on to the next. Growing is painful but often the path is full of light once you start moving. Goodbye, 2017. In the end, you really were good to me. 

xoxo, Beth. 

Let's Talk About Anxiety

Let's Talk About Anxiety

Friday, October 27, 2017

I was sixteen when I had my first panic attack.

I remember exactly where I was sitting. I remember exactly what I was wearing. And I also remember thinking in the back of my brain - this is a long time coming. 

I didn't know then what anxiety was or what it meant to struggle with mental illness. What I did know was that I wasn't normal, though. I really, really hoped I wasn't normal. Because if everyone felt like this, how are they keeping it together? And if everyone doesn't feel like this, how in the world am I supposed to keep it together?

I'm not very good at being imperfect. Imperfection is threatening. So I overachieve. I overcompensate. I am meticulous. I avoid things that I can't be perfect at, I withdraw from situations that remind me that I'm flawed and very, very human.

After that panic attack at sixteen, my very wise, very loving, and very woke mother suggested therapy (I loved my therapist. She had these big, gorgeous red earrings and a knack for wearing neutral turtlenecks). At least I loved her until things started getting deep. Guys, I am the master at chit chat. I am the master at banter and relatability and charisma. Just don't ask me about my childhood. Or heartbreak. Or the really, really irrational things that keep me awake at night, and the fear that ties strings around my mouth so that I can never open it to ask for help. 

It wasn't until I was eighteen years old that I grew absolutely desperate. I was really tired of limiting myself. I was really tired of not sleeping, not being able to do things that the people I loved counted on me for, and I was really tired of feeling distant from Jesus. I wanted the joy and peace and hope that everyone talked about.

I will always look back at that year as the year I climbed mountains. Figuratively and literally. I made so many big decisions that year. I fell hard, in love with Jesus that year. I got serious about working to become the person I knew God wanted me to be that year. And by the end of it, I thought I had cured myself. I was softer. I was more vulnerable. I didn't shame others for being soft and vulnerable anymore, either. I loved, I loved, I loved my close friends and family to the fullest. I had learned to ask for help. I was so full of joy. And the anxiety? Huh? New phone who dis?

It wasn't until this past summer when I let myself burnout, it wasn't until the cries for help poorly disguised as "bad decisions", and the resulting panic attacks after years of feeling free that I realized I'm not my own healer. I can delve into the deepest pits of my soul and dig at my hurt until there's none left, I can read dozens and dozens of self-help books with doves and cups of well-staged coffee on them, and yet somehow it's never gonna make me fully new. My newness doesn't come from me. It comes from something much, much bigger.

If you've been struggling with anxiety, if you're in a relapse, you are not a failure. You are not too sick, too scared, too far gone to be reached. You are not a burden to your church or to your family. You are not too much or too little for somebody to love you. You're gonna be okay. Deep breaths. Nothing is ever too big.

Reach out to somebody. Become the kind of person that others can reach out to, be the safe haven that you would have needed. You're going to be amazed at how many people know exactly what it's like to go through what you've gone through. 

Anxiety is not a death sentence to be carried out alone. Anxiety is not going to have power over you forever. Anxiety is not bigger than the One Who Loves Most. If you don't know anybody safe in your life to talk about how you're feeling, or if you aren't ready to talk about it yet with the people closest to you, my inbox is always open. You can reach me here.

So You Keep Making Mistakes.

So You Keep Making Mistakes.

Monday, October 16, 2017

Sometimes I wish I could just pull up a chair, brew some tea, and get cozy with each of you. The older and wiser (HA!) I get, the more I realize I'm not interesed in having shallow conversations that lead to nobody changing or growing or getting their heart filled. I feel like I've been through too much and seen too many people go through the same things over and over to think that staying silent or keeping those poisons inside is going to help anybody, like, ever.

So let's pretend it's me in front of you - probably with frizzy hair and some kind of horrible "I-forgot-to-put-on-real-shoes-before-I-left-campus" socks and sandals combination. But freaky footwear aside, here's what I think you need to know. Let me encourage you for a second.

I know that life is hard. I know that living a life after God can be really hard. I wish more people would admit that - and then let that spur them on to do their very best to find the joy anyway. To bless others anyway. To encourage fellow believers anyway. I've been thinking a lot about what I would say if a younger version of myself came to me and said, "But Beth - this doesn't seem worth it. I'm not changing. In fact, some days I feel worse. I don't feel like I'm going anywhere and I don't feel like God is on my side." 

And for you right now, you might be reading this and thinking, "Well, there it is." You keep making mistakes. You don't feel like you're changing. You feel like you're doomed to be the same striving person forever, never seeing real growth - or seeing temporary growth and then falling right back the next time something gets in your way.

I think we make a big miscalculation when we measure our "holiness" or "goodness" based on how visible our sin symptoms are. I'm not saying that it's not important to be righteous and flee from all things that keep us from becoming like Jesus. Please keep doing that. But what I am saying is often we think - if I just stop doing this sinful thing, then I'm okay. Then God can love me. We think the mistakes in and of themselves are the problem. We don't look at the cause and the circumstance and the history behind them. We don't look at what's really creeping into our heart and making its bed there. 

Look at your heart. Look at what comes out of it. Pour yourself into knowing who God is. Cling to what is good. God is perfecting you slowly, but the process isn't supposed to look perfect. Practice being authentically kind before you focus on just not doing whatever thing it is you're trying to stop doing. Practice being a servant. Practice throwing away your selfish reclusiveness and reach out so somebody who needs it. Practice producing fruit of the Spirit unapologetically. These things don't have to be big, vibrant gestures. They can be small. But practice them. As they start to become markers of who you are, watch how suddenly the thing you were trying to stop doing grows smaller and smaller in your life.

So when you keep making mistakes, and you're painfully aware that who you are and who you want to be don't match up - remember this. Remember you're in process. Remember Jesus - remember who he says you are, and know you're already new. 

Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand, and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God’s glory.
We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us, because he has given us the Holy Spirit to fill our hearts with his love. Romans 5:1-5

 Also, - 2 Peter 1:1-10.

It's Been A Horrible Summer

It's Been A Horrible Summer

Sunday, September 3, 2017

I'm currently sitting on the floor of my room, surrounded by boxes, and more piles of clothes my minimalist-wannabe heart wants to admit I own. It's a pretty good reflection of how chaotic my mind and heart feels right now. I thought of titling this post something a bit more poetic - but you know that point of exhaustion you reach sometimes where just the barest, simplest explanation is all you can muster? Yeah. That's me right now. And it has been a horrible summer. 

Heartache. Emptiness. Loneliness. Sickness. Selfishness. Weariness. I've felt them all in these past few months. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes all at once. And if I was going to put a poetic title on this post, it would probably sound something like, "WHO AM I NOW". I'm not the same Beth I used to be. I hurt. I ache. I'm tired. So much pain, everywhere. And no one thing is the cause but rather a thousand things at once, many out of my control and a few very selfish things that were very much in my control. A butterfly effect of misery, honestly. And still, God is faithful. Still, through it all, I hear the words whispered to my heart.

Oh, darling. You're already forgiven.

A few days ago, I had spent most of the morning rehashing each and every mess up I had made personally, and in my faith, over the past few months. Like a movie reel on repeat - Beth Atkinson Starring in: Colossal Failure, which had quickly turned into a double feature - Colossal Failure II. I'm sure they'll be working on yet another a sequel soon.

How could I be this person? How did I get here? How many more mistakes is it going to take? I was acutely aware that I had failed. That I was unworthy.

But - "Oh darling. You're already forgiven." stopped me in my tracks. Lord? What do you mean I'm already forgiven? 

Isn't that cheating? Don't I deserve to pay a penance?

You've already been forgiven. The price has already been paid. 

After all this time - after everything I've learned in my own life, in church, through this blog - I have realized that I still don't understand grace. I needed that reminder. Yes, I had confessed my sin. Yes, I was doing my darndest to move forward and cling to the cross any way that I could. Yet I still felt like I needed to be punished. Over and over. That I should just give up and wallow in all my self pity and shame, and be doomed to pay for my mistakes no matter how much time passed or how often I had repented.

Dearest. If that's you today - you need to know. Forgiveness is free. God's love covers over every part of you. His grace is sufficient. And once you belong to Him - there's nothing you can do to remove yourself from his arms. You aren't stuck where you are. Let the gospel remind you that once you ask for genuine forgiveness - it's yours. Slate clean. 

Stop beating yourself up. It's gonna be hard. It will require work, it will require sacrifice. But that's the glorious path. You've made the commitment to become so much more than what you are on your own. And trust me - from a gal who is exceptional at trying to be better on her own - you're never going to do it. No matter how far you've gone, you can always come back. No place is too dark or too broken or too scarred to be changed and made into a new, holy, beautiful thing. You think your secret wasn't known before time began? You think that your shame is too big? The price was paid a long time ago. You don't have to carry the weight of it all anymore.

Because, darling, forgiveness is yours. All you've ever needed to do is ask. 

Jesus Is Risky.

Jesus Is Risky.

Tuesday, August 1, 2017

"Yeah, Beth is cute. And like, super chill. But she's reaaally into church and stuff. Honestly, I'd pass." 

Have you ever walked into a conversation that you know you weren't meant to hear? It's weird, right? I think mortifying is a really good word to describe it. And that's exactly what happened to me a little while ago, at a campfire of some friend-quaintences. 

This is really lame - but I'm not gonna lie, I was caught off guard by how overhearing those few sentences actually hurt me. It hurt me to the point that I had to dip to the bathroom quickly, just to put on my poker-face and act like what those guys were saying didn't matter. 

Listen, babes. My faith has been a constant friction lately. Some days I'm like wow, God's presence is so evident. Other days I feel really stuck  - which is probably why the only stuff I've had this past month in terms of amazing bloggerly-drop-the-mic-words-of-wisdom are four random Notes on my iPhone. One of them simply states;

Jesus is risky. 

I've been doing a lot of seeking. I've been doing a lot of leaving. And then returning. And leaving again. And coming back. There have been times when I've been sitting outside on my front porch, watching the sky move from lavender to navy blue, and wondering - what would happen if I left it all behind? 

Because the world is really shiny sometimes. 

And sometimes I'm tired of trying to witness to hard rocks, thorny ground, and withering seeds. And sometimes I'm tired of being disappointed in other Christians and how they treat the people around them. And sometimes (okay, most of the time) I'm tired of making the same mistakes, falling into the same temptation, and clinging to the same empty things over and over. Have you ever had one of those nights when you come home, and you can practically smell the dead flesh on you? You might not even be sinning or doing something "technically" wrong. But your heart is in the totally wrong place. And for the longest while, you've been content to leave it there.

There I was, living like everyone else around me and blending in. I was looking like every other 20-something at that party, making the same jokes, flirting with the same boys, and I bet nobody on the outside would have guessed that I even had a commitment to pursue Jesus, let alone (don't laugh) help others to the same effect. And I won't lie to you, so far it was a good time. Until those few awkward seconds of realizing they knew. Suddenly, I was very aware of the idea that loving Jesus meant there was something unwantable about me. Yeah, Beth, you're cool. Until everybody finds out you believe in God. And you know what felt the worst? I was pissed at myself that suddenly, right in that moment - I felt ashamed of my Saviour. 

"15 Our lives are a Christ-like fragrance rising up to God. But this fragrance is perceived differently by those who are being saved and by those who are perishing. 16 To those who are perishing, we are a dreadful smell of death and doom. But to those who are being saved, we are a life-giving perfume. And who is adequate for such a task as this? 17 You see, we are not like the many hucksters[a] who preach for personal profit. We preach the word of God with sincerity and with Christ’s authority, knowing that God is watching us." 2 Corinthians 2:15-17

When we hear people say that loving Jesus with all you've got is gonna be hard, we don't take it that seriously, do we? It seems really easy to be a Christian in North America. Even trendy sometimes. Nobody is threatening to throw acid on me for writing this blog. I don't live in fear that someone is going to come into my church on a Sunday and start shooting people.

And yet, no matter where you live, who your friends are, or what your background is - Jesus is not a walk in the park. Loving Jesus with all you've got is way more than you're just really, really, really nice to everybody. Contrary to popular belief, it's not merely about being a good person. Or somebody that everyone admires. Jesus was not the kind of guy that attracted cool people. He attracted the kinds of people that we judge, slut-shame, and generally try to avoid at all costs. He came to heal the sick. Not the healthy (Luke 5). When he called Levi, all he said was, "Follow me." And that disciple dropped everything to follow him. That's uncomfortable. That's out of my comfort zone. (And we pretend like it's taboo if we feel that way. Nobody wants to admit how risky it is. And if they do - they follow it quickly with IT'S SO WORTH IT YOU'LL NEVER REGRET IT. Which, is true. But not exactly true in the way it's advertised.)

Because I totally like being liked. I like being popular. I like not having to worry about rejection. I'd rather rely on charisma than the sincerity of the gospel to get people interested in Church.  Actually, I'd rather never have to talk about Church in "cool" circles because then I can just be "cool" like everyone else. A little sin is harmless, right? That's how it feels sometimes. Yet we're told that if we choose the gospel, those other things go far beyond our reach. They're like rotted, dead, carcasses. I'm not above admitting that sounds risky to the fleshliest parts of me.

Giving up everything means also giving up the approval and respect of man. Now - it doesn't mean we aren't worthy of respect. It doesn't mean we should let people treat us badly or that the faith we have isn't defensible. But we're seeking a different, divine approval. Just because I'm a bible student interested in ministry doesn't mean I'm immune to wanting everybody to like me or have people think that I've got "it". But it's an idol I have to lay down.

If you're struggling right now in figuring out where it is exactly that you stand when it comes to the world and Jesus - you are not alone. Seriously. It's really, really hard to be in the world but not of it. It's a balancing act that I'm sure even the godliest of leaders still don't know how to do perfectly (and consistently). I've gotta be honest here and admit it's probably my biggest struggle when it comes to faith and living a life after God. But I also believe that it's possible. I believe God's constantly shaping us and changing us for the better. I believe He is Life. A sweet aroma. My sustainer. My restorer. The one who helps me when I'm most aware that I can't help myself. Even if all it looks like is going to church again, or asking someone to pray for you, or wiping off the dust from your bible. Be humble. Ask for help. Let the pursuit of grace be your purpose. Let's grow together, guys. Let's pursue this risky Jesus - and see what he does with us.

Photo by Jordan McQueen on Unsplash

I'm Really Embarrassed.

I'm Really Embarrassed.

Thursday, June 1, 2017

I was really embarrassed when I started writing this. 

I’ve always thought that “burnout” is something that happened to old people. People who had done their time. Or people who didn’t have a loving community to rely on, people who let their faith walk through sheer neglect turn into just a faith talk.

I thought burnout was a code word for tired and bored — a code word for “not cut out for this”. 

Over the past few months I’ve been battling against something I didn’t have a name for. I felt lonely, sad, angry, hopeless. I described it to a friend as a slump. “This just isn’t me — I’m not like this. Why can't I shake it off this time?” Kept running over and over in my head. I thought I just needed to add fifteen more minutes to my morning devotions. I thought I needed to keep another log book and try extra hard to make sure my time spent with God was “more meaningful”. I thought “if I keep trying, get rid of this or that distraction, distance myself, yet speak more, pray more, love harder, be softer, I'll eventually get over this.” 

It wasn't until I had probably one of the biggest break downs I've ever had that I realized, gurl. You need to stop. 

There's nothing quite like sobbing ugly, slobbery, Kim Kardashian tears and screeching; "I can't do it. I'm so tired. I don't know what the point of it all is. I don't want to live like this anymore." into your mom's lap to signal you're looking right into the pit of a no-good, burnt out valley. And it's nothing new.

I ran myself ragged at school. I came home and was trying to do the same thing. Sign up for this event, speak here, lead that, volunteer with this. Take that 3am phone call. Mediate that conversation. Write a blog post a week and work a full time job. Date enough so you look like you're trying but not too much so you don't look desperate. I was trying to have the wisdom and poise of a sixty five year old, be in the stable life position of a forty-five year old, and look like a twenty five year old, athletic, "oh I just woke up like this" beauty queen. Guys, I'm barely even twenty. In many ways I'm still a kid. (And let me tell ya, I did not wake up like this.)

What I really needed was to take my own advice. Stop for a second. Breath. (Funny how the wisdom we give often times is the wisdom we need preached most to our own hearts?) I didn't need to be more spiritual or read another book. I needed to take a dang nap and turn my phone off.

I could turn around and blame society. Social media. Church culture. God. I could blame myself for not being the best. For not "looking high enough heavenward" like all the popular evangelical blogs tell me to do.

But to be truthful - the enemy was none of those things. The enemy was not my ineptitude. The enemy was me, Beth, desperately trying to be mine and everybody else's saviour. It's the crack cocaine of serving, isn't it? Doing everything with excellence was my personal mantra. Show no weakness. Show no fear. Be salt and light and everything else in between, and look dang good while doing it. Looking back I can see all the signs of burnout as clear as the blue sky above me. 

So today I'm breaking the cycle. I'm learning to say no graciously. It's going to be really hard - and I don't know if there will come a time when I find myself here again down the road. Serendipitously, A babe friend of mine sent me this quote right when I needed it, and if you're reading this like Preaaach Beth! Saaaaame! maybe you need to hear it too;

"Learning how to say no with kindness to the things not meant for us, yields the freedom to say yes to the things we are called to carry."

If you are facing burnout, I'm right with you. The signs are there. You can probably feel it in the pit of your stomach. So let's rest - like really rest - and make it a part of our ministry rhythm. My resting currently looks like sleeping under the stars and drinking purified river water. Yours could be spending time with your family, building something, or just lying on the couch doing diddly squat for a day. Let's humble ourselves - swallow that pride and shame - and dare to admit that we aren't perfect and never will be. Tell each other that it's okay, so we can be our healthiest and get back to the point of it all - to wholeheartedly serve others and to love God. 

Sometimes You Gotta Wing It (+ other lessons)

Sometimes You Gotta Wing It (+ other lessons)

Friday, May 5, 2017

"It is well, with my soul, here's my heart. Make it whole. For you I live, in You I dwell. Oh my soul. It is well..."

Sometimes, you gotta wing it. I'm learning this more and more. Recently, I had the gorgeous opportunity to speak at my home church's youth group. They had just been finishing a series about identity, and I was about to hammer it home with a practical how-to on what it looks like to put your understanding of Christian identity into daily practice. I was so ready. I had the coolest graphics on my discussion question sheets. It was gonna be awesome. Somebody would cry, I would pat them on the shoulder and give them the "I've been there" nod, and the church leaders would beg me to come back to speak again. Clearly I had this thang in the bag.

And then I got there. 

As I stood in the back and tried to gauge a feel for where each of the kids were at, I realized something. They didn't need a practical how-to. They didn't need a really cool discussion question sheet and a hip and trendy speaker with Starbucks in hand to come and try and explain Spiritual disciplines to them. As I looked around I realized that less than 10% of the teens there actually attended my church, if any church.

They were here because it was a safe place to be on a Thursday night. They were here because there was food to eat. They were here because they could forget about whatever brokenness they were coming from for a few hours and play pool. 

As worship started, I couldn't shake the idea that I needed to change something. And when the chorus of It Is Well (Oh My Soul) started playing, I knew I wasn't about to go up there and speak out empty words. These kids needed to know that here was a place where they could find wholeness. Where peace abounds like a river. Where healing happens. They needed to know that there is a Saviour that loves them more than anything and died just to know them. 

Those are the sentences I scribbled furiously into my notebook, half panicking, half excited for what I knew was happening. God was moving, and he was gonna use me - broken, sinful, weak sweater girl, not well-adjusted, confident and cool bible student - to do it. 

And those words are what I shared with them. I explained the brokenness that I have come from. I told them how God changed me. Most of all I told them that they are never too much and they are never not enough. I told them that they have value and worth and a safety in the cross. Because that's what they needed to know more than anything else I had to say that night. 

Ministry is not about good coffee and great quote knowledge and having sweet graphics (although I do still love those things, and sometimes they do help). It's not about saying what people want to hear and making them feel all nice inside. It's about doing what's needed. So sometimes, you do need to wing it. Not all the time. But sometimes. Keep your heart open, remember that everything we do when we're trying to serve is about bringing glory to the One who makes things happen. Get out of your bubbles and boxes. Let God work. 

The Sweater

The Sweater

Tuesday, May 2, 2017

I was an awkward kid.

And by awkward, I mean that I was pretty normal ("awkward" is a word used by your peers to make sure you know that they know that you don't fit in. The jig is up!). I was a kid who didn't know that it was weird to read entire encyclopedias or discuss politics instead of boys while rolling pastry at Grandma's Club. My interests weren't about Snooki or Paris and the words I used were too big. I didn't wear Lulu headbands or own gel pens, I spent most of my time outside or reading, and my mom taught us about healthy eating and fitness long before they became a Pinterest staple lifestyle. That's right, I ate quinoa before it was cool. And heaven forbid, I wasn't allowed to get MSN on my parent's dial up.

The pre-teen angst is too real. (it got worse after this, I've just gotten rid of most of the picture evidence) 

And maybe those things wouldn't have been so weird if I didn't already have acne and braces and bad haircuts - especially in a world where it's expected that twelve year olds have perfectly proportioned bodies, shiny hair, and exclusive use of their mom's Lancome mascara. 

One of the things that shocks me most when I talk to people now is that they assume that I don't know what its like to be bullied or feel insecure and weak. (Newsflash guys: just because I'm good at making people laugh and giving eye contact doesn't mean I have it together)

When I was in middle school, the coolest item of clothing to have was a Bench sweater (I've searched for the last 20 minutes on Google to find a picture of what they used to look like in 2009 - no luck. Hopefully they've erased all evidence that the hideous things ever existed???). And I needed one. So that everyone would like me, obviously. Because that always works. 

For the next few months I worked, doing extra chores or helping my mom out with her cleaning business. Eventually, I saved up the $114 (!!!) it took to buy that elusive Bench sweater. And when I got it, I was stoked. Finally. So I slipped the thing on, as it tugged closely on my pre-puberty love handles, and faced myself in the mirror - ready to be the Amanda Bynes from She's The Man I always knew I could be (after Channing Tatum realizes she's the one he loves, the mysterious and quirky yet effortlessly gorgeous girl that's been under his nose all along). 

And you know what? The group I was trying to be a part of still didn't like me. The guys still made gagging noises when I walked by to let me know that I was undesirable. Unworthy. Not good enough.  I was still the last one picked. I was still the one who hovered around the group near the back, wanting to be a part of it all so badly. One-hundred and fourteen dollars poorer, I went to bed that night feeling just as lonely and ugly as I had the night before. 

Now, in my twenties, I'm not that little girl anymore. I don't have a problem making friends or finding a place where I fit like I did in middle school. When I hear gossip about myself or people put me down, I rarely flinch. And you know what I've learned? Confidence is not being happy with your body, having perfect skin, shiny hair, or fitting into a size two dress. Confidence is not having a boyfriend or a best friend or a talent that nobody else has. Confidence is not being better than or smarter than or prettier than. If it were about all of that, then none of us would be confident or secure in any way. I started feeling confident when I realized that I couldn't find my identity in all those things. Because sweaters fail you. Middle school popularity only takes you so far (thank goodness.)

And all of that doesn't mean I don't still have days where I feel like middle school Beth again. She's come back to haunt me a little bit more than usual these days. But I don't let myself wallow there. When I find my identity in my purpose, my redeemability, and my saviour, that's when all of the things I don't have matter less and less. My ability to comfort and pray and listen has nothing to do with whether I have a pimple on my chin or not. Being kind when it hurts has nothing to do with six-pack abs. And becoming Christlike has nothing to do with how well connected you are to the up-and-coming pastor. 

Your lacking isn't where you'll find your identity. Your achievements still aren't your identity. Your identity is found in belonging to Christ, and that's where unshakable confidence lies. 

I'm Bad at Love.

I'm Bad at Love.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Mama Beth and Papa Beth. Aren't they the sweetest?!

(Sassy disclaimer, this isn't going to be another millennial article about the 'fear of commitment' epidemic or why singleness sucks in the Church. Depending on how orthodox you think you are, go to Relevant Magazine or the Gospel Coalition for that biz.)

So, I'm bad at "love". Or, what our culture thinks love is. And that's okay with me.

The truth is, I like who I am on my own. I find it hard to hold a text conversation for more than a few hours. I refuse to play the "do you like me or do I like you, and who's gonna crack first" game. And coffee shop dates are only fun the first few times. To make things even worse, sometimes I don't feel like laughing at the same jokes about loving food more than people or how annoying homework is. (People. Everybody loves food, everybody gets annoyed by homework. Those are great openers when there's nothing else to talk about, but let's not leave that as your only conversational topic by the third date. Be yourself. Talk about what you're passionate about. You have value and so do the words you say!)

It's not that I hate all those things. And it's not that I hate love.

What I don't like is that those are the things we build relationships off of, often inside our own heads. Does he have nice hair? Is she athletic? Are they cuter than my ex? Did he like my most recent selfie? Yes, those things spark interest. But interest is not love. 

And yes, dating is rough. Yes, coffee shops and Instagram are all useful tools. And yes, I get it, Joshua Harris has ruined us.

But we get so distracted by all the little things, and we think that just because those little things grab our attention, they must be important. You could meet the perfect girl who likes all the same things as you and has a drop-dead smile, and she could bore you to tears. You could meet a great guy, who tells jokes that make your stomach hurt, and still not be attracted to him. 

Checklists don't make a marriage. 

Checklists don't make a friendship, even. Dating isn't as simple as you "pick somebody nice, and then you stick with them." Dating isn't as simple as waiting for a superstar "connection". Let's be open to different ways to meet people and grow through (and with) them. Sometimes things don't work out. Sometimes they do. Have faith but have discernment. This is hard to admit, but sometimes you just know. Don't discount your knowing, whichever way it takes you.

I don't know how to do "love" and relationships in my context of a twenty-something North American. I'm totally lost when it comes to liking boys and how, or even if, I'm going to meet a soul-person to live my life with. I used to think I knew how to make a relationship work. Believe me, I've had the experience. But nothing works the same way twice. The only advice I have when it comes to dating is to be open. Know yourself. Pursue righteousness in all things. And sprinkle some grace for mistakes all throughout. 

Relationships, romantic love, it isn't everything. When we're getting to know somebody, whether that's dating or otherwise, let's be encouragers. Let's get to know the realness and brokenness of their humanity. Let's let God change our lives, and praise him unceasingly. And let's take a chance and ask somebody on a date every once in awhile. 

Let's Do Lunch.

Let's Do Lunch.

Monday, April 3, 2017

I don't know about you, but I'm feeling all kinds of exhausted right about now. I want a cup of tea, the softest blanket I can find, and maybe some puppy therapy. Instead, I have a night class. 

But this isn't about how tired I am. This isn't about quitting, or putting my headphones back in, or turning away because "I just don't feel like pouring myself into anybody right now". This isn't about school assignments. This isn't about your crush in Psych class or about how your jeans are a little bit too tight this month. This is about us. About community.

So let's do lunch. 

Let's do lunch and mean it. 

Not flippantly. Not as a conversation-filler that requires zero follow up. Not as a way to put a band-aid on somebody else's hurting. Not to make us feel good. 

Let's do lunch and share in sorrow. Let's do lunch and really listen to the person across from us. Let's do lunch, and put our phones away. Heaven forbid Instagram misses another picture of an avocado sandwich! Let's do lunch and give hope. Let's do lunch and build relationships. Let's do lunch and bring somebody the good news of salvation and tell them, from the bottom of our hearts, tell them that yes - there is hope. Yes - there is always a way out. Yes - you. are. never. stuck. 

When was the last time somebody asked you "How are you?" and you answered honestly? It's probably been too long. I'm so, so guilty of this. When was the last time you sat alone on your bed, crying your eyes out, and wondered if anybody cared? I've done this more times than I'd want to publicly admit. (Time to clear the comfort zone of my private, wall-building little heart.)

Let's hear. Let's listen. Breathe. 

Somebody does care. Somebody cares about you more than earth and heaven combined. Somebody loves you so much that they died just to pull you from the deepest depths of your own hell. 

You have more hope than you know. You have more ability than you know. You can do it. But not alone. 

So let's do lunch. 

.

Welcome.

Welcome.

Thursday, March 2, 2017

Welcome.

For those of you who have been here since the beginning or just now stumbling onto this little piece of my messy life, welcome. 

If you've had a chance to read my blurb about what Purpose of Grace really is and what I'm about, you'll be familiar with this next bit already. And if not, here it is - I want this to be a place of freedom, creativity, and worship of Jesus Christ. Although my words and posts are simply my own, I hope and pray that they'll help point both of us (most days I wonder if it's all more for me than for you. I've had some serious changes happen in me in the short amount of time since I started POG!) a little bit closer to becoming Christlike. Or even just cause us to think more and maybe open our hearts a little to this Jesus guy. Life is big and complicated and we're flawed and broken and sometimes the weight of it all seems too large to carry. Other days it's light and airy and we feel like the world is carrying us while we sail along. This is normal. It's okay to rejoice and it's okay to struggle. And I want to write about all of it. It's my personal goal that we'll be able to find comfort, encouragement, and maybe even a kick in the butt together in all the sailing and carrying that we do.

Some of you, I know deeper than the wrinkles in my own hands, and others, I have yet to know. Even though the crazy little crew of you darlings span from Australia to Brazil , and some of you are right here with me in Ontario, I think and pray for each of you often. I'm not just here to write out my thoughts and my advice and talk about my experiences. I'm here for you, too. Just like a lot of you have been here for me. 

So this is my thank you. Thank you to those of you who have been coming to this corner of the internet for six months, a month, or even a few hours. Thank you for those of you who have challenged me and given me feedback. Thank you to those of you who have encouraged me. Thank you to those of you who have reached out when you needed somebody to talk to. And thank you to those of you who are content to watch and pray and learn with me. I appreciate it all. And I especially appreciate you. 

A big big thank you has to go out to my girls, my womanly readers, you guys rock my socks off! Sisterhood is magic. Let's remember to love on each other and not put each other down. We have enough gunk to worry about. 

Love always, xoxo, & a thousand gnarly fist bumps,

Beth

When Your Heart is Broken.

When Your Heart is Broken.

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

I'm not going to start this as if I'm in a place where I'm heartbroken. In fact, I'd say I'm going through the opposite. Which doesn't sound very encouraging or even helpful for the topic of this post. But it might give you some comfort for the future, rather than for where you're at right now. Just stay with me a little bit and I'll show you what I mean. 

 Still - I have been there before, sweet one. I've been there. And there's a chance I'll be there again - even if I gain the "perfect happily ever after". There will be times when I'll be heartbroken if I'm married. There will be times when I'll be heartbroken if I have children (especially if they're anything like me). Part of living in a broken world is that there's broken people, me and you included. Even a good person may not be a good person for you or for where you're at right now. That's hard to admit. It will take time. Don't rush yoself. 

Sometimes it's circumstances. In my experience, that's often the hardest part of heartbreak to accept. 

Maybe you've never been in a relationship, and that's what has your heart breaking. It's okay to say to yourself, "I don't know why I'm single, and it hurts." It's okay to share that. You're not weak and you don't need to feel vulnerable or as if there's a target on your back for admitting it. 

Heartbreak hurts. I know that sounds like a no-duh, but we make heartbreak out to seem as if it's girls in high school eating icecream from the tub and wearing the same socks for a week. That is not heartbreak. Heartbreak is a tear in your life that you know probably won't be mended or replaced, and all that's left to do is ache until it heals. Even that is an over simplification of what heartbreak is. And the hardest part of getting over heartbreak, I would argue, is sometimes you don't want to heal. Because with healing comes forgetting, and with healing comes putting yourself out there. And it's scary and it's uncomfortable and sometimes the rock bottom desperation of heartbreak is downright embarrassing, and who ever invented cute people and why did they think having feelings was ever a good idea anyway?! 

What you need to know about heartbreak that is so sneaky, is that it's all about you. It's about how you feel. What you're going through. Don't get me wrong, you get to wallow. You should take some time to wallow. (My tips for effective wallowing include salt and vinegar chips, angry yoga, The Mindy Project, and facemasks. And we can't forget a stew station of all the softest blankets and pillows in your house.  Very important.) But after that, you have to live your life. And live it well. 

Sometimes you can get in the pattern of thinking that living your life well means showing them how much better off you are. Throw that idea out the window. That's not healing, people! That's bitterness. Living your life well means you love God with all you've got. And you tackle that baggage. Take time to reflect and learn how to grow effectively. It's a skill that you will need for life, no matter what happens, no matter who loves you. Seriously. Most of the coolest things I've ever done I did right after a break up, and they pushed me, and grew me farther than if I'd stayed sad and on my couch. It's not gonna fix you or make you forget about what happened, but it will change you and help you on your way to growth. 

The last thing you need to know about heartbreak is that it isn't forever. I've had some really, really tough break ups. I've been the dumper, and the dumpee. I know what it's like to be stuck. I also know what it's like to move forward with peace even through my hurting. Basically what I'm saying, and what I touched on at the beginning of this post, is that I survived. You will get to a place where it's okay! You will get to a place when you're thriving. Pray. Let God lead when you feel spent and see what he does with your surrender. 

Even when it hurts, and even through heartbreak, He works. 

Maverick.

Maverick.

Friday, August 5, 2016

This content was originally posted August 5th, 2016 as an Instagram caption, and edited onto this blog August 29th, 2016.

Thinking back to a conversation I had with a young gal this past week as she was making this adorable sand masterpiece (in my honour I might add!!! I gave it an enthusiastic 15/5... I can't help it, my heart melted four times at once), I'm realizing again and again how important it is to be "the someone". 

Someone who listens when listening is needed and someone who tells the truth when it needs to be heard. Someone ready to crack a joke, even if it's hecka lame, during the hard times. Someone who will tell the other kids to shut up, because glasses are cool and so is Starwars and nobody should ever tell you differently. Or even just to bridge the gap between persons and grab a hand that needs holding. 

Yes, it's impossible to be someone who does these things all the time at every moment with perfect wisdom and timing - but when you see an opportunity, I dare you to be the someone who makes a difference. Every small molecule of water moves together to make a wave, and you get to choose whether your impact creates a mushburger or a maverick.