i kissed dating goodbye

I didn't date until I was 20, and my first and only boyfriend became my husband a couple years later. He is the only guy I've ever kissed; he's the only one I've ever slept with. And somewhere along the line, without even realizing it, I assumed that had earned me some brownie points with God.

After all, I'd "kissed dating goodbye". I'd saved myself for my husband. Subconsciously, I thought that guaranteed an incredible, lasting marriage.

But then he cheated on me.

And ultimately chose her over me.

In some ways, it feels like I'd saved myself for nothing... Like none of it mattered.

I know, at least on some levels, that that isn't true. I know that even my "all things" are intended for my good, even when it's impossible to see. I know that He is redeeming, restoring, rebuilding me, for His ultimate purpose.

I also know that redemption doesn't usually look like we think it will.

And that there are no brownie points to be had. There are no guarantees, no obligatory blessings, no automatic protections or provisions.

Life is just plain hard. Even though God is good.

Even though God is good.

And even when I "kissed dating goodbye".

I hope to someday see the bigger picture. The full circle. The "none of it mattered" transformed into "every bit of it mattered".

But even if I don't, even if I won't, I'm still called to trust Him. To live on the truth of what He says and who He is.

Because then and only then...

All of it mattered.

Originally a guest post at Love Wins

let Me love you

When my husband's affair was exposed, my entire life turned upside down. Everything changed. Overnight.

And though I didn't think it was possible, everything crumbled into even smaller pieces when he filed for divorce.

In one big swoop, I lost my marriage... my ministry... my home.

After a decade of living in Africa, I've now been back in the States for a year-and-a-half. Almost nothing in my life is the same as it was two years ago.

Nothing.

My world fell out from under me. And it was surprising to see the people God used to catch me.

It wasn't who I expected. In fact, some were people I never would've expected.

But that's just the way God works, isn't it?

Often, those we think "should" be there for us, aren't. And those we'd never expect to be, are. It's painful in some ways and joyous in others, but ultimately it reminds me to keep my eyes on God rather than on man.

And while it never plays out the way we'd script it, God uses people to bring redemption and restoration to our lives.

The greatest hurts always come from relationships. But so do the greatest healings.

In the past couple years, I have felt the deepest pain of my entire life. But I've also felt more loved than I ever have before.

It's as though the raw hurt was matched, depth for depth, with immense love.

Deep calls out to deep.

And I wouldn't know how to love and be loved so intensely if it weren't for the pain I've endured in my life.

In the midst of such indescribable personal grief, God built an amazing support system around me. In unfathomable ways.

He gave me friends who've loved me hard even when I had nothing to give back to them. Friends who've prayed faithfully and sincerely for me. Friends who've held me as I cried, talked me down off the proverbial edge when hopelessness set in, and pushed/carried/dragged me when it felt impossible to take a single step.

In a lot of ways, being on the receiving end of so much care and support has been really hard for me. But over and over again I've heard God's unmistakable voice:

"Let Me love you through My people."

In allowing myself to receive others' love, I've discovered new depths of the love of God. I've experienced more of His character. I've learned to love more deeply in return.

I am grateful for the community God's given me. I'm thankful for the amazing people I get to call "friends" and the ways God uses them to bring healing to my heart.

He continues to show me aspects of who He is that can only be expressed through His people.

In spite of great loss, my life feels incredibly rich.

And it makes the pain worthwhile.

So I lift my eyes and whisper... "Thank You."

[Originally posted on (in)courage...]

even me

I knew the entire 18 months that my husband was having an affair. At first it was just a suspicion; by the end, we were fighting every single day about her. He kept denying it. And insisting that the real issue was me. How dare I accuse him of something like this?!

Until I confronted him with undeniable proof.

I don't know what I thought would happen after that. I don't know that I was thinking at all. But I certainly didn't imagine everything that's transpired in the year-and-a-half since then.

I never anticipated the bottom completely falling out of my world, making every single thing in my life uncertain and unsure. I never expected him to leave me for her. I couldn't imagine that things would get far worse long before they'd ever start getting better.

I wonder if I'd have gone through with it if I had known what would happen.

I was so crushed, depressed, and broken, that I'm not sure I would have. And that breaks my heart.

It also makes me realize that---and I'm almost afraid to say this out loud---I'm grateful. With tears streaming down my face, I'm thankful that my life shattered to pieces... because I am already more whole than I was before all this happened.

Don't get me wrong. The past few years have been hell. They've been harder than I ever imagined I could survive, and I wouldn't wish that kind of pain on anyone. Even her.

But sitting here today, I have a clearer picture of my value and worth than I ever did in my marriage.

I still have a long road ahead of me. I will live with the pain of this heartache for a long time. But today... Today I feel hopeful that God is redeeming this.

He doesn't waste a thing.

Everything can be made new. Everything can be redeemed. Everything can be made whole.

Even this.

Even me.

[Originally a guest post at Pearl Girls...]

the one where i whine

Most people assume I'm further along in my story than I actually am. I'm still right in the thick of it, in ways no one will fully comprehend. Most don't realize that I'm not actually divorced yet. The shortest, most tactful reason is that my husband continues to make choices that are hurtful not only to me but also to our ministry. And so it lingers on, hanging over me like a dark cloud, every single day. So while some people think (and have gone so far as to say) that I should be able to move forward more than I have, I simply can't. The cloud has created an inescapable darkness that renders me paralyzed. Powerless. Lifeless. The darkness scares away hope. It blurs my vision. It heightens my pain. It makes me realize just how alone I am.

Alone is quite possibly the worst feeling in the world.

It squeezes my chest so tight, I can no longer breathe. When I feel I couldn't possibly have any tears left, it somehow finds more.

I'm sure my back-and-forthness must be driving everyone crazy. Or at least making them roll their eyes. I'm so over me, I can only imagine everyone else is too.

I know I waver back and forth, at times literally drowning in my lonely ache and other times trying to buck myself up and rally my faith. I know what I should feel, I know what God says, I can hear the non-stop loop in my head of all I should be doing to "get over this" or move forward or whatever. But as hard as I try to cling to those things, that cloud envelops me still.

Today I desperately miss being half of an "us".

For purely selfish reasons.

No longer a "we" means no longer having a someone to talk with through decisions I need to make. It means not having a someone to help make sense of my crazy thoughts. It means not having a someone who cares about how I spend my days, where I am, what I'm doing, how I'm feeling.

I know I have a myriad of someones in my friends, but that's not the same as having my someone.

And today I could really use a someone...

hope again

I'm sure you're familiar with this story. But bear with me for a moment... Mary and Martha's brother was sick, and they sent word to Jesus to let Him know.

"When He heard this, Jesus said, 'This sickness will not end in death. No, it is for God's glory so that God's Son may be glorified through it.' Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus. Yet when He heard that Lazarus was sick, He stayed where He was two more days... On His arrival, Jesus found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb..."

Jesus had told his disciples that "this sickness will not end in death". And yet... Lazarus died.

We have the benefit of knowing how the story progressed from there---that Lazarus would be raised from the dead---but no one there did.

All they knew was that Lazarus died. And that Jesus could've healed him---that He even implied He would---and yet He didn't...

In those moments, I'm sure it was impossible for them to imagine that "will not end in death" could possibly still be true. Lazarus was dead, for crying out loud.

But even still, Jesus' words were truth. And everyone eventually saw them come to pass when Lazarus was resurrected.

Smack in the middle of the story though, while they were all grieving the death of their friend, Jesus spoke some words that make me stop breathing for a moment:

"For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe..."

He was talking about the fact that He hadn't been there to heal Lazarus before he died. "I am glad I was not there..." Wha? He's glad His friend died? He's glad his sisters' hearts broke in grief? He's glad??!!

"For your sake... so that you may believe... it is for God's glory..."

Often what God does and allows in my life does not make sense to me. Yet His promise is that it's for my good and His glory. Even when it doesn't seem like it.

Even when death has already sunk its teeth in. Hard.

In those moments, He still says "I am glad... for your sake." And while that pains my heart in so many ways as I think about my life right now, I want to believe there is pure love in that statement.

I'm no longer hoping that I'll be spared from the agonizing pain of my journey. I'm not asking to be saved from the fiery furnace... because I'm already in it. I've been in it for a long time.

I want to believe that it "won't end in death" even though death is already here.

I want to believe that He loves making beauty from ashes, life out of brokenness, and a new beginning where there is nothing but finality.

I want to somehow find hope again.

Not in rescue, but in resurrection.