the world is a book...

and those who do not travel read only a page.
~St. Augustine

Kona, Hawaii to Tokyo, Japan to Jakarta, Indonesia.
Time for some reading. And some abiding.

We'll see about this. Right now, I am increasingly aware that I am willingly walking blindly into these next couple of months. I mean, this is YWAM. Our plan is to have no plan.

And I love that.

Here's to no plans, no sleep, and no place to lay your head.

oh how he loves us so...

If one thing i have learned here at YWAM, it's that God does in fact know what He's doing. However crazy-assed it may seem, I believe that He is still working all things together for good.

This post has come from the deepest places of my heart and my thoughts with and toward God, mainly having to do with my relationship with Josh and his death. I can only begin with words of praise; God is faithful. He is good to me when I don't even know it.

When I met him, I was a freshman at Baylor, thirsty for everything that was to come from 'becoming an adult.' And of course, I fell in love. Josh only had one tattoo then (ha) and loved to wear that Abercrombie shirt and those Diesel shoes that he used to share with Peugh. We were simpler, it seems. A good while into our relationship, I began to walk with God in an intimacy that I had never known before. I was always a Christian, but a Christian who sang worship songs blatantly aware that I would not sing "I love you." I knew Him to be a Creator, the God of the universe. I respected Him. I honored Him. I revered Him. But loved?

But then, I fell in love with God. I fell for Him deeply and fast. He cherished me. And it was then that I began to hear His voice as clear as I've ever heard any audible voice around me. "Come out from among them and be separate..." this verse haunted me for months as I wrestled with the knowledge that He was calling me out of this relationship with a boy I loved. I wrestled with knowing that both Josh and I were Christians, so how could He be saying that we were "unequally yoked"? I wrestled with knowing that He was asking me to be obedient no matter what my heart or mind said.

So I did. And to this day, and to my deep regret, Josh's last blogs speak scornfully of a girl who scoffed at his 'godliness.' His words in that blog haunt me, especially because we never got to talk about what he had written. To him, I had played the indubitable "God card." There was no way to explain to Josh then that I loved him, but God really was calling me away. Away to where, I had no clue. But away from Josh for the present.

So, I went. And Josh went. We walked miles away from each other, but managed to swing back around and throw blows every so often. It wasn't until the week before his death that we came to a point of total honesty about our feelings toward one another, despite years and tattoos and addictions that had passed between us. I almost believed that God had called me out to be separate, but was going to restore something there.

And then, Josh passed away.

Obviously, his death has changed me. And the Lord knows how I have struggled and wrestled and fought and cried over the plain unfairness of it all. And one day, I remember writing in my journal, asking God why. Not asking why had Josh passed away, but why had I heard His voice so clearly call me out of that with Josh. Was it because He knew Josh would die young?

For some reason, I went and re-read Josh's last blogs "Thoughts on God" a few days ago. I just had this strange desire to read every word and hurt all over again. So I did. But this time, instead of reading it in a place of pain and frustration, I really read his words. He talked about his life as a little no-nothing worship leader who found himself struggling with doubt, getting the "God card" from a girlfriend, falling into deep drug addiction, and finding hope - and finding God. He wrote about intimacy. He wrote about beauty. He wrote about a God that was beyond the church, beyond a religion. He wrote about a God he knew.

So as I sat with God under that big tree at the base of the hill here in Hawaii, I feel like He sweetly brought closure to a hurt that was so deep and so costly in my understanding of My Almighty. Josh knew God at his death in a way that I don't believe he did in the years that looked more like he was following God. I believe that out of a place of painful obedience and unknowing, God brought Josh to a point of knowing Him deeper. And I have never felt so strongly that now Josh knows now.

He knows.

And so, I am filled with praise to my Father. His works are mightier and sweeter than any I could contrive. He has taken my heart with his kindness.

"...and by this we will come to know that we know Him...."

a dwelling place

So strange that I feel continually lost. Even with a safe home, I'm at such unrest. And now, here I am, at YWAM in Hawaii, and I find myself near tears because I feel so lost. What is it that is keeping me from really 'dwelling'? Moving back home since graduation, I've definitely had to discipline myself to really live in the moment and not continually wonder if I'm in the right place. Because no matter where I go, to Dallas, to Waco, to good old East Texas, I'm still wrestling with finding my place. I'm (painfully) learning that 'home' has so little to do with location. I think I've always blamed my restlessness on the fact that my heart is in so many different places; that those I'm closest to are spread out all over the country, so how can I possibly be happy without being surrounded by them at all times? It's like I have this relentless desire to gather up all my intimate relationships in one place, some weird hippie commune of love or something. And in really listening to God's heart lately, at this so-transitory period in my life, I have found that He is my dwelling place.

"The eternal God is your dwelling place, and underneath are the everlasting arms."
Deuteronomy 33:27

I see now that no matter where I am, surrounded by those I love or not, that He is my peace. He is where my heart dwells restfully. I think since Josh's , I've really clung to home and the safety there. But, I also know that God has put in my heart desires that working in a cubicle just aren't going to fulfill. And I think I've walked out in such fear since his , a fear of losing what I love, and it has really stopped me from seeing the joy for the moment it is joyful.

Thank you, Father. I need you so much every day.

And tell Josh Happy Birthday (a day late :)

Dear Josh

Well hey. It's coming up on 3 months since you've been gone. That is so weird. I feel like 100 years older. Your mom and I have been talking a lot. I like her. She's handled this with such grace and simple faith that I am floored every time i talk to her. It's sort of homey talking to her, like closer to you or something.

I went running last night and stopped at this park to just lay on this hill and stare up at the sky. I was just kinda tired and felt so heavy. Of course, stupid Ryan Adams starts cooing in my ear our song at that very moment. Perfect. Then, I just let go. It's like these tears just came up from the bottom of my feet all the way out. I cry a lot when i'm going to sleep at night, but it's always kinda quiet, soft tears. These were huge, loud sobs that made me sore this morning. It's been a while since I've cried like that. And it was a weird sort of relieving to let it all go. I feel like we played a lot of games with each other's hearts. You know? And I just yelled up at the sky, 'I'm done playing! I'm done playing. This hurts for real this time!" (If there was anyone in earshot, I'm sure they thought I was a quack.) But really. It hurts for real this time. Losing you is the hardest thing i've ever lived through -- and i'm not even quite sure i'm gonna make it. (Ha, that's so dramatic) I mean, I will. I know. But days like today it just doesn't seem so certain. I just can't imagine ever feeling for someone what I felt about you. I can't imagine wanting someone like I wanted you.

It all just happened so fast. Why did you have to go? Come back and let's play again. I'll even let you win. I will! It's funny because people talk a lot about you being in heaven and being finally restored. I guess that's good. I mean, it is. It's just funny because i have to fight this selfishness that always says, "But i can take care of you just fine. I can be your peace." But I know I can't. I know I wasn't. So I guess I'm supposed to grow up and love you selflessly and really allow you to be there and be made new. I guess. I think last night I decided that I hadn't made my peace with God about you. You know? Like I'm still not ok with Him taking you. But, as it turns out, it's not up to me.

So for now, it just hurts. It hurts to think about when I first met you in my dorm room on my way to the showers. It hurts to think about all those sweet times we had. It hurts to think that you're not out there thinking about me like I am about you. Before I always knew I was in the back of your mind (thanks Ryan Adams), someone that you could go to when your loneliness was just too much. And it hurts to know now that you don't need me as a simple solace. You don't want me like you did. Wow, I guess you're over me. Ha, that's oversimplification at its finest.

Anyways. I'm sorry that I never made it down there until your wake. I'm sorry that you got tied up with all that crap in Dallas. I'm sorry that I loved you so selfishly.

Going down there, writing your mom, it all seem so unreal. Like, there's no way this is really happening. There's no way that I'm standing here, staring up at the sign above the door at the funeral home with your name on it. There's no way that I really we really said our last goodbyes at the cemetary. It's just too unreal. It hurts too much to be real.

"So I'll hold you close in the back of my mind..."

II Corinthians 4:11-12

For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life may be revealed in our mortal body. So then, death is at work in us, but life is at work in you.

Today...

Today I'm mad. When I start to think about Josh being gone, instead of crying I have this weird picture of myself just taking a huge bat to this tree outside my house. I know that's strange. But it's persistently on my mind. I just haven't come to peace with his death. I haven't come to peace with the fact that he will not call me. I will never walk with his hand in mine. I will never see him at my front door. I won't awaken at 3:20 in the morning to some random text of his. And I'm not yet ok with that.

People say it a lot, but really, it just doesn't seem real. It doesn't seem possible that I'll never see him on this earth again. My mom told me the other day that he'll be there to greet me when I get to heaven. Great. I'm so glad.

And I know that now Josh is with his Creator. He is now made completely new. He is restored and is enjoying perfect, unhindered communion with the living God.

And still, selfishly, I want him here. I KNOW that I could never be able to satisfy him and bring him peace that His Father does and is, but here on earth, I can try. That's something that I always took for granted about him. I think I was this strange sort of peace to him. Like, no matter where he had been, he could still call me and know that I cared for him in a way neither of us could really explain.

I'm glad that the last words we spoke were me telling him how i felt -- finally being brutally honest about how I cared for him. I know it hurts to think how we were finally working out the saga that was us, right before he died, but I'm glad I said it.

But today hurts again. It seems to go in waves, waves of an acceptance, waves of complete despair. But today it's hopeless. Today, that feeling at the base of my chest is persistently reminding me that he will never call me again. No matter how much his mom and I talk about him, he's not coming back. He's not coming back.

"Oh, Lord, be not far away. But run to the help of your love..."