Author: debbie beal

Sometimes I feel like single ladies out there are heaving a sigh of relief when they see that I’m finally getting married. “If Debbie is getting married, maybe there’s hope for me, too.” And sometimes I feel like there’s a bit of, “Why her…and not me?”

I only say that because, in my experience, I’ve been on both ends of the spectrum. I remember when a cool, older (but still young-ish) lady who had discipled me for a bit got engaged past the “normal” engagement years…feeling like there was a lot of hope for me. That maybe I didn’t have to get married when I was 22 or 23 and life could still be good (even though, at that time in my naivety, part of me had felt sad that she had been single for so long). I also have been in a place, especially around Christmas when it seems like everyone and their mom is announcing engagements or babies or actually tying the knot, that my cynical heart couldn’t bear to rejoice with one more person. Those were the moments that I felt like the entire world was passing me by and I wondered if I was ever going to get my turn. 

I’m 29 now. While many friends my age are having baby number 1 or 2 (sometimes even 3!), I’m finally getting married. I remember in high school and college placing bets with my female friends on who we thought would get married first, or the order in which we would ‘go’. I was never picked for last… but, here I am…practically last. 

My oldest brother wrote me yesterday and said: 

You’ve waited a long time – and now you know why.  God’s always had [this man] in mind for you, and He had you in mind for [this man].  Just took longer than maybe you would have wanted. But all is well.

All is well, indeed. 
All is perfectly well.
Better than I could have ever anticipated. Take heart, my friends…and keep doing what you are meant to do during this season. Do it wholeheartedly. Do it fully. And be someone who can always rejoice with others during their time of blessing, even when they are getting the very things that you long for. We must trust that the Lord knows what He is doing in all of it, that He is truly a good God (even in our times of deepest agony, loneliness, confusion, jealousy). 

I suppose I’m getting ahead of myself…I haven’t even told you about the proposal yet. So, here’s Part 2 of this crazy story: 

After a week with his family, we came to hang out with my family for a week. He had been insistent on taking me out for a fancy date while we were in my hometown. There was some speculation around the event (like, why take me out for a date in a place you’ve never been…why wouldn’t we do a fancy date in your hometown??)…but I decided to go with it. After conversations with my mom, I was convinced that he had not brought up the topic of marriage with them again (since that ridiculous phone call) prior to our date, so my expectations were low. 

It was a beautiful Saturday, even somewhat warm-ish. The frost had melted, the skies were clear. He spent a few hours that morning helping my dad outside on some stuff while I helped my mom with a few things and leisurely got ready to go. And off we went.. a late lunch/early dinner (brinner, if you will?) to Les Bourgeois Vineyards, a beautiful place to dine and get an incredible bluff-top view of the Missouri River Valley. We ate, we took pictures of ourselves with the view behind us, we walked around a bit, we bought a bottle of wine as a thank you to my parents. And then we headed home.

I’m kind of a sunset fiend, and was anxious about missing the sunset on our drive home. He assured me that we could watch it when we got back to my house. As soon as we arrived, he walked me down into the backyard and as soon as we turned the corner, I saw a set-up that was quite unusual. Tiki torches, lights, a bonfire, a little table set-up with music, a card and some wine. Could this be what I think it might be?

I got excited about the sun setting…it was magnificent…so after a few pictures, he led me over to the table and handed me a card. I opened the wax seal and began to try to read what was written (although I must confess it was hard to focus when I was unsure about everything that was happening). He had written some beautiful words about wanting to spend forever with me, about wanting to spend our lives together glorifying the Lord in all we do. At the the bottom was written, “Turn Over”. The moment I did, he was down on one knee.

“Absolutely. Yes, of course I will marry you!”

We hugged, we kissed, we laughed, we cried, we watched the sunset together…blown away by what a perfect day it was.

The Lord is so good, was the whisper on our lips.

Several minutes later (one can’t be sure how many), a friend of ours popped up out of the woods with his camera in hand. Stunned, partially because I think of him as a Texas friend and partially because it’s weird to see people suddenly emerge from the woods, we engulfed him in hugs. With his family in Kansas City for the holidays, he had offered to drive the two hours to come take pictures of our special day. It was perfect…and he took some incredible pictures!

Once the sun had completely set, we headed back inside to join up with my family. At this point he had told me that from the very first phone call to my family (two weeks into our relationship) he had told my mom about his plan to propose by the pond at sunset when we were home for Christmas. He told me about how my brother and sister-in-law had helped with the set-up, how my dad had gotten the bonfire ready…about how almost everyone I knew had been in on the secret…for a long time. I was astounded. Not only did this man love me so deeply, but he had been planning and preparing for almost our entire relationship (yes, the not even three months of it)…and he had invited my family to be such an important part of this day.

More of my immediate family was waiting for me, a few hours earlier than I had anticipated. Only one brother and sister-in-law couldn’t be there for the occasion! Less than an hour later, my parent’s house was filled with more friends to celebrate the occasion- high school friends, college friends, family friends. We got to share with them the story of our relationship, the proposal, they got to ask him questions (since many of them were meeting him for the first time). It was intimate, personal, deep and so wonderful to have them there on such a momentous occasion in my life.

And that’s the story.
He’s fit into my family better than I ever could have imagined, and they have embraced him with open arms. I’m thrilled to journey through life with him by my side, but am still aware that it doesn’t make any of my problems go away. He doesn’t save me, but constantly points me back toward the One that does. I love that. 

I want to urge you to never give up hope, to never lose sight of the things that matter, to never stop living for more than the temporary, than the earthly satisfactions. To never stop pursuing the Lord, to never stop trusting in His timing and His ultimate goodness. Your story is different than mine…and your love story will also be different. Let it be different. Let’s not compare. Maybe it will be years before you meet the person you’ll spend the rest of your life with, maybe it’ll be tomorrow, maybe it’ll never happen.

Trust that, in the end, all is well.
The Lord is sovereign.
He is good. His plan is perfect…even when we doubt it. 
Let’s live our lives accordingly…even when He blesses us with abundantly more than we could possibly deserve and even when we feel cheated out of things in this life. 

Because He has given us a truer love in Jesus Christ than we can ever find in our earthly relationships. He has given us eternal life. He has died so that we might live. He has already given us abundantly more than we could possible deserve. 

All is well, indeed. 
Let’s trust that it is so.
Thanking the Lord for an earthly love that I did nothing to deserve…and praying that we might be reflections of the love of the Father in every possible way.  

Thanks for rejoicing with me.
For loving me so well.
I am truly blessed.

Life is pretty weird these days.
When people say words like fiancee, or wedding, or bride…they might actually be referring to me. It’s plausible. It’s surreal. And pretty awesome.

I feel like a lot of people have been asking, “Debbie- who the heck is this guy and where in the world did this come from?” It’s a valid question. Unless you were walking closely with me in life, you probably only knew I had been dating someone for a few months and that it was serious. But engaged… already?!
I can only give credit to the Lord in the orchestrating of all the events.

So, here’s the story (part 1, anyway):
I met a blonde, long-haired man last August (2012) a week or so before I left the camp I was working at in Texas. He was younger than me, rambunctious and about to be thousands of miles away from me. I barely gave it a second thought. I saw him again the following May (2013) during an extended stay at the camp to help out with a few things. That trip allowed for more conversations and, for whatever reason, he had officially caught my eye. The summer consisted of almost daily long-distance communication and I found myself, yet again, stuck in a place of wondering what in the world was going on. Could he like me? Could I like him? Am I just setting my heart up again for another disappointment? Sometimes I played games like: don’t respond to his text message immediately or try not to talk to him for at least a few days or don’t ask him any questions to see if he still responds. He always did.

By September I was in a place of needing to know if our fast-growing friendship was actually anything more than friendship. I made a surprise trip down to Texas and after some face-to-face time with him, I recognized that I was pretty head over heels. I really liked this guy and I had no idea how he felt about me or if he felt about me. The next two and a half weeks were brutal. It was that waiting time where you feel like your heart is going to pound out of your chest. Desire felt consuming, but I was stuck in a place of being able to do nothing about it. I tried to change my normal sarcasm, flippant remarks about how he might mean nothing to me and make sure he knew that he mattered, that he was a priority in my life.

When I got to go back down to Texas for a friend’s wedding, it was time for a conversation. A DTR, if you will. Are we on the same page? Are we moving in the same direction? After a few hours, we decided we were. We decided to move forward and see what this could be. At this point in my life I felt like even if I didn’t know if I was going to marry the guy, it was worth trying to find out. And so we did. That was October 8th.

On October 20th, he was visiting his parents and woke up and headed to brush his teeth. He often started his days by praying for us, for our relationship, for the Lord to prepare and equip him to be what he needed to be for me. This day was no different…he thought. As he brushed, he noticed the post-it note of Scriptures his mom had put up on the mirror. His eyes were drawn to Psalm 27:13-14:

I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living!14  Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord! 

In that moment, he felt this overwhelming peace about our relationship. That I was who he wanted to be with forever and that I was who he would be with forever. He didn’t know where it came from or why it came when it did…but that it was undeniably from the Lord.

I found out about the “revelation” a few days later. The next day, he called my mom and told her he intended on marrying me (remember how we’d only been dating about 2.5 weeks?) It was ridiculous and forward and freaked my entire family out… I mean, how could it not? They didn’t even know this guy and I had only started dating him a few weeks prior and had barely even mentioned his existence in my life prior to that. It was crazy. But, he wasn’t deterred. And while I was slightly caught off guard, I knew that I cared deeply for this man. I decided to go back and read my journal from October 20th (the day of the Post-It Note revelation) to see if I had written anything substantial. This is an excerpt of what I had written:

It’s so hard for me to not tell him that I love him. It’s the one thing I want to say that comes close to expressing all of this stuff inside of me…and I can’t. Not yet, anyway. …… I feel like the Lord just reminded me (not only about how good He is and how He lavishes His blessings on me when I don’t deserve them) that I have to choose. That I get to choose. To love [this man] everyday. That there will be some days where I don’t want to or am scared to…but to choose to love him selflessly and in a way that reflects Christ. That the Lord is reminding me that love is a choice, not a feeling (as wrapped up in all of the swelling emotions that I’m in right now). It’s a good reminder. When the feelings ebb and flow, will I choose to walk in love? I don’t know why I’m so scared, Lord. I don’t know why it’s hard for me to fully receive without questioning and doubting. But, I know that out of the blue, [this man] has become a vital part of my life. That he’s a man that I’m quite sure I want around forever. Can you give me peace that this is okay? That he’s really mine to have? That You won’t take him? And that we would honor You with our lives forever?

He was spontaneously able to come to New Mexico for a few days and I had the hunch that he might tell me he loved me (I mean, we’re talking marriage already…so the big ‘L’ word has to be coming soon, right?). I knew that if he told me, I wanted to read him this journal entry. I felt like on that day I had asked all the questions and he had received all the answers. I was blown away because I felt like in looking back on that day, the Lord had answered my prayers….but had given the answers, the peace, the clarity to this man. He hadn’t asked for it, but he woke up, was praying about us, for us… and then there it was. This crazy peace and realization that I was it for him. 

It’s kind of been a crazy year.
Move to Boston.
Move to New Mexico.
Get engaged.

What…?
Yes, it happened. I have this sparkly, heavy thing on my finger and while it seems perfectly normal…it simultaneously seems impossible. How did I get here?

After the most perfect engagement with the most perfect sunset with the most perfect man for me, I was soon surrounded by close friends and family to celebrate. They asked how we met, how it happened, different things in order to get to know him better (since he’s virtually a stranger to a lot of my friends/family)…and then the question was asked of me, “Debbie, what’s your favorite thing about him?”

Obviously I couldn’t stop with one, but as I explained how this man had weaseled his way into the depths of my heart…I couldn’t help but offer a thanks to the people who surrounded us. They were many people who had prayed for me and with me, cried with me, listened to me, challenged me, encouraged me and loved me as I struggled through the loneliness of singlehood…as I stood broken hearted through unrequited love or uncomfortable break-ups. And as I made phone calls and sent texts, I was reminded of the many others who had offered the hope of what could be as I often sat in the cynicisms of how love could never be what I wanted it to be.

I wish I had listened.
I wish I had believed.
And so, with tears in my eyes, my heart aches to tell the masses of how wonderful it truly is. How it’s worth the wait. How hopeful it can be, even when there seem to be no prospects at all. How it’s better than anything I could have ever wanted or imagined.

I wish you could listen.
I wish you would believe.
I wish, no matter how hopeless it can feel, that you might believe that someday it could happen for you. That you wouldn’t settle for less than what it’s supposed to be. Because it’s supposed to be good. It’s supposed to be a relationship that always points you back toward Jesus. It’s supposed to be something that makes you feel like you could do anything. It’s supposed to encourage, support, make you know the love of the Lord in a way that’s often unbelievable. It’s supposed to make you want to sacrifice, do things outside of yourself, to be someone better.

No, it’s not perfect and it’s not always easy…but it’s about something infinitely bigger than us…and so it’s better.

I feel blessed. Truly blessed.
Not just to have “finally”met The One, but to have met him exactly when I did. I have these years behind me filled with adventures, filled with opportunities for discipleship and ministry that I may not have had if I had met him any earlier. I have these passions and skills that have been developed and explored and I know more about who I am and who I want to be and what I want to do because I’ve had time to figure it out. I’ve had time to walk into it. I love that.

I love that the Lord is so good and knows me so much better than I know myself.
I love that He is so faithful and kind.
I love that He can take a broken, pessimistic, unbelieving heart and turn into it one that is more whole, more optimistic and more full of belief of who He is through His love.

I want that for you.
I want that for women and men who often feel discouraged in their singleness. I want, more than anything, for them to know that obedience to the Lord and following Him fully matters so much more than finding a spouse. And that, oftentimes, along the way, the Lord is going to bring about someone so much greater than all the relationships that we try to force upon ourselves. And, even if He doesn’t, it’s because He’s got something better for us.

My life is drastically different than it was a year ago.
I’m still fumbling through things, trying to love Jesus more and others more through the way I live… but now I have someone to journey with. Sometimes that will make things easier and sometimes that will make things harder.

It’s exciting.
And terrifying.
I can’t even begin to imagine the bazillion changes in my life that are about to take place, but I never want to lose sight of the Lord, the one thing that’s always mattered most in this world. My priority with that can’t and won’t change.

Keep waiting.
Keep running after the Lord, letting nothing deter you. Keep being honest and real about your frustrations and confusions and disappointment when it comes to relationships (whether you’re in one or not)…but don’t let it ever cause you to pause in your pursuit of Christ, in your quest to change the world because of what He has done for us.

Because He is a good God.
And He has changed my cynical, stone heart and has replaced it with love.

(Don’t worry, I’ll post another blog soon about how it all went down!)

Writing has been hard.
I’ve been distracted, busy, sick, uninspired or Internet-less… and so it just hasn’t happened.

Excuses, right?
“Go chase your dreams!” has been my mantra, and then I’ve failed to pursue them myself the past several weeks.

What I’ve probably meant to say is, “Go pursue dreams as long as it’s convenient and doesn’t interfere with your life and only if it’s easy and only if you’re constantly excited about the long road ahead of you… and if those things aren’t in place, just stop while you can…”

Just kidding.
If people did that, we wouldn’t be anywhere.
But, it’s kind of where I’ve been sitting lately.

And now it’s Christmas.
My first Christmas to spend with another family.
I’m no stranger to random Christmas services or being in an unfamiliar place during the holidays… but I am quite the stranger to receiving gifts from people without having given them anything in return, especially people I’ve only just met…and, friends, it’s hard.

I sat in a room with another family and cringed as I was handed gift after gift. I don’t deserve these, I wanted to cry. You barely know me, my heart screamed. I didn’t get you anything…how can I take this from you? I felt awkward. Uncomfortable.

But… I felt loved. I felt wanted. I felt like I was being invited into something good. And so I held back the rebuttals (as much as I could, anyway… I think a few, ‘Guys… this is too much!’ slipped in a time or two) and received the gifts.

I don’t deserve them.
I don’t deserve to be welcomed into another’s family and given to and lavished upon constantly. It’s overwhelming. But it’s overwhelmingly good… because it paints a clear picture of the Gospel for me. Entering into a place of such humility where one is just loved, cared for, encouraged, given to… for no good reason, by nothing I did or didn’t do.

I don’t deserve Jesus.
I don’t deserve salvation.
I don’t deserve to be welcomed into the family.
I haven’t done anything. I haven’t given anything.
But yet I am chosen. Invited. Welcomed. Part of.

And now one of the biggest questions is what I’m going to do with the gift. Is it enough to just receive it? Or am I called to more than that? Is it enough to just acknowledge that I’m now a part of this family, despite the fact that I don’t deserve it….and to take and take and take?

I want to utilize the gift. To share the gift. To tell others about it. To invite others into it. I want the gift to extend beyond me. I want others to have what I have. To have it to the fullest.

So what am I doing about it?

It’s Christmas.
This radically crazy, miraculous time where we celebrate the birth of the King, the Savior… but do we remember what it means? Do we care? Have we grown numb? Have we just come to expect more…to expect gifts….to expect to get what we want? Have we forgotten that we never deserved it all in the first place?

For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

This is what matters.
Abundantly more than anything else.
It’s Good News.

I belong.
Because of Jesus, I belong.
I am loved, given to excessively, welcomed in, part of.
I am His and He is mine.

No matter what.
I hope you find that security today. In the midst of all the holiday chaos, changes, moments where things may not go the way we want or expect, reminders of what we have lost/what we don’t have…I pray that you’d be reminded of that one truth and it would cover everything else in joy, in peace, in goodness. I pray that it would, somehow, prevail over all else.

Because it’s Good News.
You’re invited in, welcomed in, given to, able to be part of.
You belong.

Today I’m humbled.
Reminded.
Thankful.

I belong.
To something deeply beautiful and far beyond my own understanding…and I’m thankful for the earthly things that remind me of such wonderful truths.

Merry Christmas, friends.

I used to think that playing sports with boys for the first time was somehow different from playing sports with anyone for the first time.

Playing sports with boys for the first time quiets my soul, especially when I don’t really know ‘said’ boys. Warm-ups are crucial because in those first ten minutes, I must show them that I’m not entirely incompetent. My game-face is on. I don’t want to be that girl who runs around on the field, waving her hands for a pass and somehow gets completely neglected every time. I don’t want to be that girl on the volleyball court who has guys diving in front of her to get balls because they’re scared when I touch it, it’ll soar the wrong direction. I don’t want to be a benchwarmer.

Reading the Bible is still hard for me.

After of many years of forcing myself to pick it up every day, I had quite the hiatus and the last year has proven to be difficult in resuming such discipline in my life. It’s hard to read it with a fresh perspective, to not scan through the text quickly as though I already know everything it says. It’s hard to not skim over familiar Bible stories, to tune out when I get to a verse that I know by heart. It’s hard to sit. To be focused. To absorb. To want more.

But, I know it’s good. I know it’s true. And I know that I want the Word written all over my heart and I’ll never get there if I refuse to try. I need it. And I can’t act like I don’t.

And so, the other day, I flipped through the pages of Isaiah, quickly eyeing the things I’ve underlined in the past…recognizing that I didn’t have nearly enough time to even begin to dive into the depth of each passage. I decided Paul was a better choice for the moment and found myself in Romans. Romans 12.

I forgot that sometimes when I read Scripture (even Scripture I’ve read hundreds of times) new things can leap out at me. That sometimes it can be fresh. Sometimes (usually always, if I’m willing) it can transform my outlook for the day…and even for my life. I like it, especially, when it backs my own thoughts…and I’m often reminded that my thoughts have been rooted in and shaped by Scripture.

Lately I’ve been an advocate of doing what you’re passionate about…an advocate of following dreams… of living large. Too often I think we get lazy, we get discouraged, we get fearful, we feel hopeless. Too often I think we allow life to seize us and when things get hard, it’s easier to stay within the confines that we know we can handle. Too often we take jobs for security, convenience… too often we stay in relationships for comfort…too often we stay close to home because leaving feels too hard.

But I read this yesterday:

We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift is prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully.

If you’re like me, you’ve probably read this Scripture quite a few times in your life. In fact (if you’re like me), you probably just skimmed over it because you knew what it said.

But, this time, I’m struck by the simplicity of it.
Basically, I feel like Paul is saying, “Hey… if you have a gift that you’ve been given, use it”. If you know how to serve, serve. If you can teach? Teach. If you’re great at encouragement, give anyone and everyone encouragement. If you love to give, give and give and give.

And I just wonder how many of us are doing what we’re good at? How many of us are using the gifts that we’ve been given in ways that truly matter? How many of us are doing whatever it takes, being diligent in our strengths, giving ourselves wholly to the developing of them…so we can be the best we can possibly be to glorify the Lord with our entirety?

I want that.
I want that for me.
I want that for the ministry I work in.
I want that for believers all over.
I want that for the church.

That we would be a people who can recognize that we’ve each been given different gifts…and then that we might use them. Fully. With everything we are. That we wouldn’t allow any excuse to get in the way of doing whatever it takes to be better, to excel, to thrive… to simply do good things with what we’ve been given.

Can it be simple?
Can we just do?
Can we stop making it all so complicated and walk confidently in who we are created to be? In the things that we are good at? Can we focus on ways that we might allow our different gifts to have an eternal impact in this short lifetime here that we are given?

Maybe it means stepping out of our comfort zone, doing something risky, leaving something behind… maybe it means spending more money, maybe it means putting yourself out there, maybe it means facing possible rejection. Maybe it means a lot of things that you don’t love the idea of…

But what if we trusted the Lord with the gifts that have been bestowed to us and then walk fully into them, confident that He who we serve is faithful and good?

Let’s be bold with our gifts.
Let’s let it be simple.
Whatever you’ve been given, use it.
It’s time.
You were made to thrive so that He might be more glorified.

Let’s thrive.

“I can’t wait until I meet the perfect guy…”

I’m not sure how often I’ve said this to myself, somehow convincing myself that perfection was attainable. As much as I could tell myself that perfection didn’t exist, somewhere in me I thought it still could. My list was comprised of a well-rounded man who excelled in not just one thing, but many things. He would be well-liked, well-received, a sacrificial lover of Jesus and a hard-worker by nature. In addition to his many fantastic character traits, he would be beautiful. Handsome. Strong. Athletic.

He could do no wrong.
At least on paper.
He was perfect.

My desire for Perfection in a mate was reflective of my desire for perfection within myself. The two seemed intrinsically linked. If I could attain perfection myself, then it wasn’t unfair for me to expect that from someone else. If I could be all things to all people at all times (including the Lord and myself)… then why couldn’t someone else do the same? I think there have been times when I foolishly walked through life thinking I could, that I would…and, as a result, so could he….and so would he. Because, after all, if Perfection is attainable and I’m a living example of it…how could I ever coexist with someone who would mar my perfection? How could I ever even consider someone who wasn’t willing to strive for the very best? How could I ever think about being with someone who might mess up? Wouldn’t that make me look bad?

Surprisingly enough, not long ago, Perfection waltzed into my life. At least, what Perfection had looked like on my paper. I decided to read through the list the 19-year-old version of myself had created (as much as I don’t even really believe in list-making anymore because of how it can set us up for faulty expectations/hopes sometimes), and I was astounded. Could he really be…Perfection…?

Before you go off on me and tune me out because I’m all gushy/mushy/sap-face now, know that I’m not delusional. The thing about lists is that you somehow forget, while making them, that everyone has flaws. You’re only putting down the things that you want, not always remembering that with all the things you want…there’s inevitably going to be some things you don’t want. We typically don’t make our lists thinking about all the ‘bad’ things that we’d be willing to put up with. And sometimes we tend to forget that no matter how perfect someone might appear, it’s something that’s far from reality. Because, my friends, in case you aren’t aware…no one is perfect. No matter how many items on the list you can check off when Perfection comes along, it doesn’t mean that they’re actually perfect.

They can do wrong. And they will do wrong.

So, rather than dating Perfection…I’ve been realizing that I’m dating Imperfection. And, beyond that, I’m realizing that it’s so much better.

I had this moment last night where I realized how beautiful it all really is. This epiphany where, in the recognition of his imperfections….I am made aware that I am also deeply imperfect. There was this moment of freedom from what anyone else in life thinks about me/my love life. This recognition that no matter how much I try to people-please and have everyone on the outside looking in thinking that I have everything under control….there was this freedom from needing them to think that the guy I’m dating is the most wonderful guy in the world all the time (which, I’m personally still pretty convinced he holds the title of).

But…. he’s not perfect.
He’ll be the first to say that he’s not, but the first to welcome in any sort of criticism that helps him move toward better (and yes, he reads my blog, knows I’m writing about him and supports me wholeheartedly in it). I have a lot to learn from him.

The moment last night reminded me that I’m dating someone who isn’t perfect. And it’s okay. As much as part of my heart wanted to fight against the reality of the situation (somehow still trying to think that perfection was attainable), I sunk into a deep awareness of my own sin, struggles, imperfections. Not only is the grace that covers me day in and day out my own to seize, but it is also his. That somehow, in this moment, I was fully aware and fully humbled by how good the Lord is.

I’m dating Imperfection.
But in dating Imperfection, I’m blown away by how wonderful it is. How I get to see, yet again, Christ’s grace as He gives us abundantly more than we deserve. As He allows two sinners to come together and try to communicate, to attempt to depict a picture of Him. I get to see Christ’s grace as Imperfection offers me grace and I, in my own imperfection, attempt to offer it back.

It’s this imperfect mess that’s entirely perfect.

Too often I think we can get caught up in the paralyzation that comes when imperfection hits…especially as it concerns other people. Will they notice? What will they think? How can I make this better? What can I do to prove to them that I’m better? What can I say to justify why I did this? And then, when we are attached to someone else, similar thoughts invade when their imperfection threatens to damage our own image.

But what if we could be people who exist fully secure in our imperfections and the imperfections of others because we know that our hope for anything greater lies solely in the saving grace of Jesus Christ?

Of course my boyfriend isn’t perfect.
Neither am I.
We never will be, but we’re striving for better.
And when the criticisms come, when the imperfection strikes…I pray that we not look it in the face with a sense of hopelessness or surprise, but that we push forward into the better. That we allow our imperfections to shape us, refine us, to move us into more of an image of Christ… and that we simultaneously are reminded of how in need we are of the blood that covers us.

It’s both humbling and beautiful.
And it’s better than perfection.
The reminder that I cannot without Jesus…and neither can he.
Because we are imperfect. We are in need. And may we both rely completely on the Lord to be our Savior and never on each other.

It’s imperfectly perfect.

I remember being in a prayer circle many years ago (you know, the type where you ‘popcorn’ around and different people get chances to pray and after the long, awkward silence someone finally closes… much to everyone’s delight). In this particular prayer time, one of the guys threw up a prayer rather passionately: Jesus, we just lust after you!

Uhh…
We do?
What?
Is that… okay?

But it’s made me ask an important question that I’m not sure many people are even asking: what is lust?

We talk about it a lot, we say it’s sin, we tell people to avoid it… to flee from it… but do we even know what it is? Can it be defined? Is it subjective? Are there certain degrees of lust? Does simply finding someone else attractive mean that you’re lusting after them? Scripture/Jesus tells us that if a man even looks at a woman lustfully he has committed adultery in his heart.

So let’s make sure we know what lust is… and let’s make sure we know what lust is not.

Dear old dictionary tells us that lust is a ‘very strong sexual desire’ or a ‘passionate desire for something’ (in this second definition, I think my friend’s prayer may have actually been a-okay…although it certainly tends to have a ‘sinful’ connotation to it).

I asked the professor I had for Human Sexuality this question, too. She thought lust had a lot to do with objectification, a sexual longing for someone else that made them more of an object of your possible gratification instead of an actual person.

Maybe it’s all blurry and fuzzy and the moment we start to think that someone is attractive, that’s the moment that we immediately go to sex land in our head… but I don’t think it always has to be that way, meaning that I don’t think we need to be scared of finding others attractive. (I don’t think we need to be scared of being attractive, either. In the world of modesty, it can be easy to feel like we’re sometimes not allowed to want to be attractive because of how it might cause others to ‘lust’ after us.)

I guess I’m not sure if there’s a specific line that you can cross that means you’ve automatically moved into lust-land, either. It’s easy to want to create that, to create boundaries, to create universal rules for how someone can know when they’ve started lusting… but, unfortunately, I don’t think it’s as easy as that. I think, for every person, it’s going to look different. It’s going to be this smattering of how we were raised, where we were raised, what we’ve been exposed to, what choices we’ve made, how our bodies function. I think it’s unfair to say that what might cause one person to lust will always cause another person to lust. I think it’s unfair to say that lust is always the result of finding someone attractive.

I do think my professor was onto something. At the point when someone becomes an object (especially a sex object) as someone to daydream over, fantasize about, consider ‘dating’ only because you want to get physical with them… I think that’s the point in which we can call it ‘lusting’. But to find someone attractive beyond just the physical (remembering that they’re a person and not just a body), then I think it’s different.

Mostly I just don’t want us to be people who are scared of attraction. People who are so scared of finding the opposite gender desirable because we think it’s intrinsically linked to lust. Yes, flee from lust. Flee from allowing your mind to exist in a place where sex/sexual thoughts are all consuming, the place where it doesn’t matter who people are but what they might be able to offer you physically or how their looks satisfy your eyes. Flee from anything that separates the person from the body and allows them to be glorified solely for their outward beauty.

Because we have to be willing to look beyond that.
To see people as people. People with stories, lives, dreams, brokenness, families, fears, imperfections.

I can’t tell you that lust is going to happen when you do X (fill in whatever thing you want here)… but I can tell you that it is certainly more likely to happen when you participate in things that strip people of their being. When you’re ogling and sexually fantasizing about all the possibilities… (and yes, this can still happen even when you deeply care about someone outside of their physical beauty).

It’s a fine line.
It’s a line that many would rather not play with, but one that we inevitably seem to. Because we are sexual beings and it’s hard to separate ourselves from that sometimes. But, we must. We must be willing to have self-control, to flee, to step away from situations and people who cause us to move into that place of separating body from soul.

Just don’t be scared of real, genuine, beautiful attraction. Don’t be scared to see others as wonderful creations… just know where your line is, what your limits are. I’m not trying to give any sort of justification for lusting… or give you a reason to think that you’re not lusting when you are. I think you probably know when it happens. I think you probably know what lusting is for you. Don’t adopt someone else’s line for yourself. Being willing to be honest about what lusting is for you, and steer clear.

Be aware of what lusting is not. And be aware of what lusting is. Be willing to have conversations with people you know/trust (probably older, wiser people) about it, too. I think the more willing we are to engage in conversations about seemingly uncomfortable things, the more we are able to learn and grow from them.

It’s an interesting topic…this thing called lust. May it not be something that ever defines us, but another thing that the Lord redeems us from, saves us from and refines us in.
(And yes. Girls do lust.)

I’ve been pretty disappointed with myself lately.

I didn’t really recognize why initially, but I’m starting to figure it out. I’m prideful. I’m still so prideful. It’s this mixture of wanting approval, thinking I’m right, thinking other people are wrong, wanting to justify and defend myself when they thing I’m wrong, believing I’m capable and believing others are incapable.

It’s stupid.
And gross.
And destructive.

I’ve had a few situations lately where I’m interacting with someone and they think they are so right in their opinion. While I don’t even necessarily disagree with them, I’m so frustrated that they are approaching something with such an unwillingness to see another perspective… and I find myself retaliating. Fighting against something, defending something… and I don’t even know why. Other than proving someone else wrong, or proving myself (and whatever stance I don’t necessarily have) right.

It’s mostly because I don’t always have strong stances on things that other people do. Mostly because I recognize that there always seem to be exceptions to the rules. There always seem to be reasons to act in one way when, most of the time, we might say not to. And so often those reasons seem to come into play when it directly involves us….when it benefits us.

Mostly I just hate double standards….fully aware that I have my own (can we appreciate the irony of this statement?). And I hate pride. Within myself and within others. Because it destroys. It makes us become people who feel the need to always be right… who feel like we’re the only ones every doing anything right… and when our pride is wounded, we are quickly defensive, hurt and are often likely to push back (or throw our own little pity party of self-sabotage).

I don’t like it.
I don’t like who I become when pride seems to be taking control of my life. I’m quickly defensive, quickly unapologetic, quickly justifying all my actions. And when pride my pride is poked at, I can immediately go into self-preservation mode. If someone hints that I’m wrong, that I’ve done things incorrectly…I desperately long to show them my reasoning behind my actions, my decisions, my thought-process. I can’t have them thinking ill of me, right? I want them to think I’m right, that I’m doing good things, that I’m moving in the right direction…

It’s all rooted in pride.

You know how you can be trucking along, thinking things are good and that you’re doing all right? That you’ve got things under control and that you’ve got it all figured out? And then you start recognizing these places/things in you that aren’t good…and you’re reminded, yet again, of the darkness that dwells within? You’re reminded that you’re still a sinner… that you still can’t do it, no matter how good things are. And as much as pride consumes you at times, you fall on your face recognizing that you can’t ever possibly save yourself. You can’t ever possibly do enough right, enough good. You can’t ever win enough arguments or convince enough people that you’re right. You can’t. And even if you could, it wouldn’t matter.

But with the Lord, all things are possible.
That even in the midst of our darkness, He is willing to do the impossible for us. He’s already done it.

I don’t think I’ll ever escape the darkness of my pride here on this earth. It will unleash itself in various forms throughout my life and I’ll go through the cycle of hating how it controls me at times. But there’s always the reminder. The reminder that I have been saved not because I can do anything right or good or wonderful… but because Jesus came and He died and He rose… because He loved me even when I’m a prideful, wounded mess.

There’s nothing that can kill our pride more quickly than being reminded of that truth.

So when the pride consumes, takes root, makes us people we don’t like looking at… I pray that we would be struck by the truth of the Gospel, that we would fall to our knees in humility….that we would be completely reminded that we can’t do this…but God can… He has.

How truly thankful I am.

A life filled with blessing…
It’s hard to wrap my mind around, honestly.

My mom told me not too long ago how cool it is for her to see how the Lord has been blessing my patience lately. In a sense, I felt like she was saying, “Debbie, because you’ve done this, the Lord is giving you this.” My first instinct was to laugh, though. If I’ve been anything the last 29 years of my life, patience would never make the list.

And, in the context of our conversation, I began to remind her of the thousands of ways the Lord had been faithful to me in my impatience. Remember the time that I thought I was in love with that guy and would have dated him in a heartbeat if he had ever noticed my existence…? Or the time when I was dating that guy who was all sorts of wrong for me but I was willing to do whatever it would take because I was so set on loving him forever, but then he broke up with me…? Or how about the time when I just decided none of it mattered and gave up on love because it would never be what I wanted it to be…? Or the hundreds of times that I tried to kill any desire I had for a spouse because it seemed too hard to be in a place of wanting and not having but I never could let it go…? Or the times that I thought I liked a guy just because he was nice and I wasn’t sure anyone else would come along…? Or when I sorta, kinda online dated because I felt slightly, sorta, desperate…?

I’ve been nothing but impatient.

But then my mom graciously reminded me of all the many times that I could have dated, that I could have fought for relationships, that I could have, maybe possibly, have even entered into more serious relationships that could have resulted in marriage. She reminded me of how I ended relationships and stepped away from men that weren’t going to be good for me. She reminded me that, on some level, there were a lot of things I wasn’t willing to compromise on… a lot of times when I was unwilling to budge even when I was lonely, single and had no prospects in my future.

Isn’t it nice to have a mom?
Where I see my desperation and impatience, she sees my patience and obedience.
If we’re being honest, there’s probably some combination of the two in full force.

Mostly I just feel absolutely indebted to the Lord for His faithfulness to me when I made foolish decisions in the midst of my impatience. He sustained me. He even allowed my heart to be broken over and over again in my attempts to control my entire love life and have things happen in my own perfect time and in my own perfect way. He saw me through all of those times, reminding me of His infinite goodness…even when I couldn’t fully understand it at the time. Even through the tears, the wondering, the confusion…the painful stabs I made toward Him as I struggled to understand how a Father who claimed to be good could cause me such grief as the heartache I was consumed by…He was good. 

But then there’s also this realization that, as much as I made stupid decisions, I also made some good ones. I didn’t just date whomever so I could have a boyfriend. I didn’t have to find my worth in needing to be validated by males throughout my entire existence.

And as the Lord showed me His faithfulness over time in this area of my life, I longed to show mine back to Him (however imperfectly it might look). I wasn’t willing to settle. I couldn’t anymore. I wouldn’t. There are things to never compromise on. As the Lord had been faithful in not letting me enter into relationships I thought I wanted, and as He scooped me back up again and again when I felt broken and lonely and desperate…He’s reminded me that His plan is worth waiting for. That He is, indeed, faithful.

Because I’m impatient.
I think, to some degree, I always will be.
But I still wait.
Because sometimes you just have to wait. And, sometimes you get little bouts of patience while you wait (because the Lord is kind and gracious)….and the waiting seems pretty great and actually tolerable. And then sometimes it seems unbearable.

The Lord is bigger than all of it though.
He’s bigger than your impatience and your innate ability to try to destroy and sabotage your own life (because, on some level, we all have a tendency to do that). He is sovereign and good and kind and gentle and faithful… and even through all of our heartache and despair that we often can’t see how the Lord could possibly be in the midst of…. He is there. Because the story is bigger than the moment we are in.

And so sometimes we get to wait. Sometimes we have to wait. And sometimes it sucks.

But I pray that we can be people who trust in the goodness of the waiting. That we can be both impatient and patient… trusting that God is faithful. Truly faithful. And He actually is a good Father who gives abundantly more than we ever deserve.

So, be patient… even when you’re impatient (I recognize that’s quite the paradox, but it’s how I live my life). Keep waiting. Live in the hope of the promise of a good and faithful God.

Totally worth it, guys.
Being in the midst of blessings that you know you don’t deserve, but you also know you waited for (and hoped for)…and somehow these blessings, in the fullness of the Lord’s grace, He orchestrated for you. Completely for you.

Wait.
Patiently and Impatiently.
But wait.