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Sometimes I lay awake at night thinking, “Marriage?! Really?! Is that what I really want and am made for?”

Because sometimes I just think about all the things I won’t be able to do anymore. I think about all the sacrifices and sharing and ways that I’ve gotten really good at living life by myself and how I’m not entirely certain that I’ll be great at doing it with someone else. I think about how I’m introverted and I like being alone. About how I like sleeping on the left side of my bed and kicking my feet around to find cold spots when I get hot. I like having my own bathroom and spending as much or as little time as I want getting ready in the morning. I like eating my lunch at work by myself. I like doing what I want, when I want.

Marriage…
Really?! 

We’re less than 20 days away from kick-off and I’m not having any doubts… just giant reality checks. Marriage is a big deal. It’s the only thing I’ve ever consistently wanted in my entire life and now that we’re coming upon the deadline, a million questions soar through my mind. Mostly they just remind me that I’m selfish. Mostly they remind me that I need Jesus.

It’s not him.
It’s me. Entirely.

Which spirals me further into my path of selfishness. At various points, my mind becomes so focused on what I can and can’t give, who I can and can’t be, what I want over what he wants (as if my desires somehow matter more).

Yet…
He is kind.
He is patient.
He is gentle.
He is loving.
He has self-control.
He is joyful.
He has a peace that passes all understanding.
He is good.
He is faithful.
(none of these perfectly, of course… he’s still human, after all)

He’s more than anything I could have ever picked out for myself and I can’t imagine not spending the rest of my life with him. It’s just a lot to take in. A lot of change. And suddenly, my life that looked so very different from the vast majority of my friends (with spouses and babies) starts to look a little more like theirs. I think that alone freaks me out a little. I’m used to being different. I’m used to being alone.

There’s a season for everything, and my season for singleness is over (finally).

Big gulps.
Change.
It’s happening.
I’m thrilled. Terrified. Eager. Anxious. Thankful. Learning.

There’s a fuller picture of what it means to need Jesus every day as I long to love others like He does. I cannot do it without Him. I cannot get married without the Lord at the center of it. I cannot vow to be all of these things, to do all of these things until death do we part without daily pleading that He show me how to be more like Him through sacrifice and selflessness. Without daily choosing to love and respect a man who is so wonderfully imperfect.

Guys.
I’m getting married.
I can’t even comprehend how I could have ever been ready for the magnitude of this commitment before… and, yet again, I’m thankful for how sweet and perfect the Lord’s timing truly is.

These days, there’s a common thread that weaves its way in and out of conversations.

“DEBBIE! YOU’RE GETTING MARRIED SO SOON”

I know.
I know.
Holy cow.

In 50 days, I’ll be making one of the biggest life-commitments there is. In the midst of all the other wedding stuff going on, I recognize that it can seem pretty insignificant. Just another wedding. But, as time draws closer and as the busyness of summer camp wanes… there it is. The reality of sharing everything in my life with another human being.

While I don’t know the half of what that actually entails, I’m pretty excited. The last few months of no longer being long distance (and even working side-by-side) has allowed us ample opportunity to frustrate and annoy each other, and push to love each other through it all. And, at the end of every day, I’m still just thankful. Thankful that I had to wait for him. Thankful that the Lord spared me from all other relationships so that this time could come. Thankful that it can actually be this good. I had no idea that my seemingly unrealistic hopes could actually be exceeded.

People are excited for me.
Sometimes, I think, more than other people. I think it’s because I’m ‘old’. Everyone else getting married is 5-10 years younger than me (including my fiance). Sometimes I feel like a beacon of hope for many single women out there. If it can finally happen for Debbie… maybe it’ll happen for me. And oftentimes, I feel like there’s still a… but I hope it happens for me sooner than 30! 

I get that.
I hoped for that, too (over and over again).
But I’m so glad it didn’t work out like that.
Even with all the lonely nights, the tears that were shed, the heartbreaks, the disappointments, the endless attempts to kill every longing in me that hoped for a lasting, God-glorifying relationship…

It was always better this way. I just didn’t know it yet.
In fact, I feel like I was given something that a lot of people who get married younger don’t always get. Something that I would have never chosen for myself, but something that I now cherish.

Time.
Time to figure out who I am and who I want to be.
Time to figure out what I want in life, what my passions are, what it looks like to follow my dreams.
Time to do the things I want to do, without having to worry about someone else(s) or financial stresses. Time to travel. Time to go to back to school and then leave school spontaneously.

I love that I’ve gotten to see and do great things. I love that I had a chance to become a better version of myself before I entered into this crazy, lifelong covenant. I love that I’ve had to learn, grow, push through the periods of wanting and not getting….seeking to choose Jesus through it all. I love that my identity is rooted in something beyond the man I’m marrying.

And not that getting married younger is bad or wrong or that you can’t learn all this stuff while being married, I’m just thankful that it wasn’t the plan the Lord had for me. I’m thankful for what I got to have during that time of singleness.

Cherish the time.
Cherish the moments.
Cherish the friendships you have because your single (because, you have them–whether you want to admit it or not).
Cherish who you are becoming.

Live boldly, freely, spontaneously, unexpectedly.
Seize opportunities.
Choose integrity and obedience, seek to become more like Jesus in all things, hold yourself to a higher standard.
Dream big, follow passions, dabble in the open door of possibilities.

Don’t feel limited in your singleness.
Don’t feel stuck.
Don’t resent it.

It’s good.
It’s a blessing.
For this time, in this season… ask the Lord to show you how to embrace the fullness of it. And trust that He’s got the rest under control. Trust that it truly will happen unexpectedly, but better than you could have dreamed. Trust that He is a good and faithful God.

I want that for you.
While you can’t always see the big picture, I want you to walk into it faithfully. I want you to keep hoping. Keep dreaming. Keep laughing.

Because life is good.
And even if you’re 25, 30, 45, 60, 73… single, waiting, hoping…
Cherish the time that you have.
Where you’re at, as long as you’re seeking to follow the Lord wholeheartedly, is exactly where you need to be- no matter your circumstances.

Find the joy.

Someone left a mostly empty bottle of Coke on my desk. As I got closer, I noticed what it said, though. So, I decided to sit down a share a Coke with all of you (since whomever left it chose to remain anonymous–don’t worry, I didn’t drink it)… and because it’s time.

It’s been a while.

Last week, during a few hours off in the morning, I thought about blogging. I thought about it and then showering, drinking coffee, and journaling became more of a priority.

Because I’m tired.
Tired and selfish.
Did you know?

A year ago I had enlisted myself in my very own personal “Book-It” program, reading books in hammocks by the ocean, rewarding myself with pizza when I reached my goals. A year ago I was taking weekly outings to hike up in the mountains of New Hampshire. A year ago I was preparing to go on a trip to learn how to surf in Nicaragua.

And now, a year later, I’m working 15-hour days, answering questions I don’t actually know the answers to, and praying fervently that this place we’ve developed over the last nine months is actually doing something good (don’t worry, it is).

It’s kind of crazy how quickly one’s life can radically change.
And kind of crazy how, even in the midst of all the drastic differences, I can still be the same and have the same tendencies. Part of it’s my human condition and part of it is just me….skeptical and people-pleasing me.

If there’s one thing I continue to realize about myself in the last few weeks, it’s how I deeply desire for others to like me, understand me, understand why I do the things I do (there’s always a rational explanation, I assure you). I want them to enjoy the program I designed, to see the goodness in it. I want them to love the place that I call home, the ministry that I’ve devoted my life to. I want them to buy in, to partner with us, to join us, to believe that all the hard work, the long hours, the tedious tasks… that they’re worth it. I want them to see the million other factors that play into decisions and to believe in the Lord’s sovereignty despite our imperfections.

Because I’m imperfect.
We’re imperfect.
And sometimes I think it’s too easy to forget that.
It’s too easy to blame.
Too easy to expect people to read your mind.
Too easy to allow for expectations to define our assumptions for how all things ought to be.

But friends, things are good.
Really good.
I don’t ever want the long hours, the minute sacrifices, the dirty feet, the miscommunications to take away from what the Lord is doing in this place. I don’t ever want my desire to please people to come before pleasing the Lord. I don’t ever want my high expectations of others to interfere with also loving them well.

Because things are good.
The Lord is moving. He’s changing lives. He’s calling people back to Himself. And He’s continually asking us to pick up our cross and follow Him. He’s continually reminding us that Jesus came to serve, not be served….and He’s asking us to follow suit. He’s assuring us that while it may not be easy, convenient, or comfortable…. it’s entirely worth it. He is worth it. Advancing His kingdom, raising up disciples, dwelling in His presence. Worth it.

He asks us to zoom out of our limited perspective and consider the all the unknowns of the bigger picture. And He asks us to trust Him in the midst of the unknowns.

This summer had “unknown” stamped all over it.
But the Lord knew. He knows.
And He is good.

I need His grace daily… both in my life and as I interact with others.
Because I’m perfect.
We’re imperfect.

But His grace is sufficient.
He is the goal.

Sometimes we just have to stop, share a Coke (or a Dr. Pepper…), and remember.

Summer.
It’s almost here.

A year ago I was in the thick of finals, papers, presentations….and it felt pretty easy. My responsibilities consisted of making sure that I was well-prepared, studying enough, giving enough time to thoroughly research and then regurgitate all of my research. If I didn’t do well enough, it only really affected me. And then it was summer…a free summer!

It was a breath of fresh air after a decade of intense summers and lots of responsibility.

And then I stepped back into camping ministry.
And summer means something entirely different than it did a year ago.

Now I’m in the thick of hiring, planning, scheduling, creating, programming, communicating…and it feels pretty daunting. My responsibilities (and my success or failure of executing them) seem to only affect others. My co-workers, the staff we’re hiring, the programs we’re developing, the campers that are coming, the guests we’re serving. Everything is contingent upon something else… and sometimes it feels overwhelming. Terrifying, even.

I can’t do this.
My brain screams at me as a I try to fall asleep at night.
There’s still this, and that, and… oh, what will we do about that? Or this? Or….
It can go on for hours, if I let it.

Even outside the projects, the construction, the activities that are still yet to be built, the programming, the scheduling, the staffing… even outside of all of that feeling incomplete, my biggest burden lies in deeply longing for Truth to be presented clearly and accurately. That all things would point back to Jesus, to what He has done for us, to why that absolutely changes everything.

Sometimes I think that if we’re doing that, everything will be okay. More than okay, even.

It’s in that hope alone that I can put to rest my people-pleasing addiction.
Am I doing everything I can to please the Lord? Have I made that my goal–the thing I aim for?

Too often I get honed in, fixated on all there is to do….fixated on a fear of failure…fixated on disappointing others.

And then Jesus reminds me that it is in my weakness that He can be strong. He reminds me that His grace is sufficient. He reminds me that He is the goal. He reminds me of the bigger picture. He reminds me that I wasn’t made for this world. He reminds me to choose Him, to choose eternity every time.

When I decided to take this job last summer, I remember knowing that we could never be successful without the Lord paving the way, without Him guiding, without us trusting in Him constantly.

A new summer is upon us.
A summer of unknowns.
A summer of over 10,000 guests to serve.
A summer of Christ being made known.
This is happening.

And, I do believe, that as long as we are making it our goal to please Him in all things… everything else will be okay.

I can’t do it.
And I’m so thankful.

My fiance and I have started reading through some marriage books together.

Sometimes I want to gag, as they drone on and on about the same ‘ol stuff. Sometimes I think they’d be more beneficial for us to read a year after we’re married and are actually having the everyday complications that arise from living/doing life together. But, sometimes they say good things. Good things that are applicable outside of marriage, even.

One book reminded us that I can trust, no matter what my future husband might say or what his attitude might be, that he deeply loves me. Perhaps a situation or an action might suggest otherwise, but I have to choose that fact to be true. I have to remind myself that, even though he messes up, he loves me. He wants good for me. He wants good for us. He isn’t out to get me, to hurt me, to harm me–that isn’t the desire of his heart… and I’ve been thinking about that concept in a greater scope of our lives.

Sometimes when we are a part of organizations, or churches, or teams….we have leaders that aren’t perfect (okay, all the time they’re not perfect). But, sometimes we allow this to be a reason that we leave, quit, run, move on to something different. We forget about grace and we forget about grace in the midst of imperfection.

We hold them to impossibly high standards and when they don’t meet them (or exceed them), we peace out. We have no time for mistakes. Our hearts are too soft, our pasts are too jaded. We need people we can trust. People who are dependable. People who can do no wrong. People we can always rely on.

But, I’ve been wondering what might happen if we considered the heart of the leader. What if we considered the motivation? What if we asked ourselves: Are they really out to get us? Is the core of who they are malicious and evil…or did they just mess up? Did they miscommunicate? Are they juggling a lot of things right now? Do they even know how their actions might have affected us? And, if they did know, are they someone who is going to do something to try to change it?

Do we trust our leadership?
And even we trust them, can we allow them to be imperfect? Can we allow them to figure things out and for it to, sometimes, look messy in the process?

I remember church hunting up in the Boston area, checking out different ministries and seeing where I might fit in best. I remember being all too aware that I was picky, that I had high expectations, that I wanted my own version of perfection to exist somewhere, somehow. Worship had to be just right, the speaking had to be relevant and accurate, the people had to be kind and welcoming. I jumped in different friend’s cars on a weekly basis to try to find the church of my dreams, and found myself disappointed. I wound up often attending the church that my brother was an intern at and moving up in quickly. Not because I always loved the worship, or the teaching, or the community… but because my brother was in leadership and I trusted my brother’s heart. Even if he gave a sermon that I didn’t 100% agree with, it wasn’t a make it or break it deal…

Because we’re all seeking. We’re all figuring life out.
I believe that our Christian leaders are often given the impossible task of being perfect, of doing no wrong…. I believe it because I’ve done it to people (usually without realizing it) and I’ve also had it done to me. But we’re all people in need of grace.

I can promise you that I will mess up often.
I can promise you that I won’t always make you feel like I love you or care about you on a personal deep level. I can promise you that I will probably let you down. I will make poor decisions. I will mess up. It’s inevitable.

But could you maybe believe that my heart is for good? For Jesus? For making things better? That even in the times where I screw up and let you down and suck at communicating… that I do care? Could you choose to believe that people intend good, even when it comes across the wrong way?

I think when we’re able to take ourselves out of the need for perfection and remind ourselves that people are people, that we can follow our leaders more wholeheartedly. That we can see the vision, that we can trust the vision…because we believe, at the core, that they intend good. They may not always execute it perfectly and that’s where community and honesty is vital as we sharpen and refine each other, as we lean on each other for different gifting and strengths.

But, I pray that we wouldn’t be too quick to give up on our leaders because they’ve disappointed us. I pray we wouldn’t be too quick to gossip, to complain, to quit, to run. I pray that we’d be willing to look at the heart. To remember that no one is perfect, not even one. To ask yourselves if, at the core, you really think they intend evil, that they intend to hurt you, that they want to see you fail.

I think you might be surprised when you allow yourself to go there.
When you allow grace to invade.
When you allow yourself to admit the many ways they might be trying and seeking to do things better, to do things right, to tend to everyone’s different needs/hopes/expectations.

Do you trust their heart?
Do you trust that they intend good?

If you do, I generally think that’s a good reason to stick around, to keep following, to keep giving of yourself. Nothing is perfect. No one is perfect. But we’re moving forward, striving for better, placing our hope in the only One who is.

Can I fix it?

When I know that something I’m involved with isn’t perfect, I want to do whatever I can to make it better.

Can I fix you?

Whenever someone I know has something troubling going on, I want to do whatever I can to make them better.

Is there something I can do? Something I can say? Something that will make it better? Has there been a miscommunication? Have your feelings been hurt? Do you feel like you haven’t been heard? Do you feel like you don’t matter?

I want to assure you that you do.
And I want my assurance to mean enough that you believe it.
I want to have the words that soothe, the words that reassure, the words that are able to change perspectives and attitudes.

I want my actions to always be such that they are moving things and people toward repair and reconciliation. Actions that build up and do not tear down.

Unfortunately…
Unfortunately I suck at these things.
I can’t often fix it.
I can’t often fix you.

Too often I speak out of emotions, selfishness, fears, and insecurities. Too often I live out of my own worldview of what I think is “fair” and “right” without considering how that might be different from your own version of “fair” and “right”.

I’m so limited.
And I hate it.
Sometimes my limitations are agonizing, oftentimes they are debilitating. I can’t think about anything else….because something in my life feels broken. It feels off. It feels like it’s not how it should be.

The Truth, unfortunately, sometimes feels like mere platitudes… trite, meaningless statements in effort to quickly fix the tears and holes in our lives. But I wish we’d let it sink in and change us. I wish we’d let it change our hearts, our attitudes, our perspectives…

Because there’s more than this. Than this life that we’re living. Than the things that frustrate us, than the things that don’t seem fair. There’s often a bigger picture that we’ve forgotten about it… and we’ve allowed ourselves to be consumed by only what we see. It’s the stuff that makes all of this worth it…

Because, on this side of eternity, things are going to be broken. Nothing is going to be exactly the way it was intended to be. No one is going to be exactly the way they were created to be all of the time. We’ll have glimmers of it… we have hope for it. But, it’s not going to be completely 100% fixed… not yet. We’re not going to be 100% healed…not yet.

We’re limited.
But it doesn’t mean that we have to operate out of limitations. It doesn’t mean that they have to define us. I can’t always fix things, and I can’t always fix others…but I know that my hope is found in the One who can. The only one who gives us hope and reminds us that this life isn’t how it wasn’t intended to be. This life isn’t the fulfillment of the promises given to us. That no matter how limited we are, no matter how unfair, how wrong, how broken things are around us…there’s much to hope in.

Because this life isn’t it.
I want those words to sink in.
For us to live for more than what’s right in front of our faces. To remember that while our present circumstances may be less than ideal, that we have a greater purpose. To be people that will gladly walk through anything so that He may be more glorified. That we’d remember how much it’s not about us….and we’d be willing to know the extent of what it means to be a living sacrifice.

I want to fix it.
I want to fix you.
But I can’t.
I am limited.
I know the One who can.
And I know that there must be more than this.

I have to live accordingly.

I called my fiance last night and was insulted that he only gave me 14 minutes of his time.

14 whole minutes.

I should probably admit that I called him around 1:00 a.m. his time and he that answered from a dead sleep, asked about my evening, shared briefly about his day, told me he loved me, double-checked a few times to make sure I was okay…and finally said goodnight and hung up when he realized I wasn’t going to give him more than ‘I’m fine’.

I’m fine.
I insisted.
I’m fine, but actually, if I told you how I really felt, I’d be in tears…and it’s late, and I’m irrational, and it’s unfair for me to call you so late and expect you to have an hour long conversation with me… so, I’m fine.

He knows me well enough to know that I’ll eventually tell him what’s going on, and I did. A day later with apology ringing in my voice as I continued to try to swallow my irrationality…

Because aren’t we too often fine?

The truth is that I walked to work yesterday morning, suddenly very aware of my loneliness. So, later that night, after processing and dwelling, when I said I’m fine… I probably meant to say, I’m lonely. Only, that doesn’t sound as nice. That isn’t as conducive to a short conversation in the middle of the night when you’re just trying to touch base.

But I couldn’t hide the dissatisfaction in my tone.
I wasn’t fine.
And he knew it.

We use fine when we want to get others off our back. Sometimes we use fine when we really want others to pry and find out what’s really going on. Sometimes we use it because we can recognize that our reason for being upset/disappointed is irrational and so we’re really just trying to convince ourselves that we’re fine.

We hide behind fine.
We choose to run from others, to block them out… by insisting that we’re fine.

But sometimes we’re not.
And sometimes it’s okay.
And sometimes we need to let people in.
Sometimes we need to seek them out.
Sometimes we have to step out from behind fine and expose whatever it is that’s weighing on us.

Sometimes we’re fine because we’re too often telling others that we’re fine. So then they stop asking, stop caring, stop trying… and quickly our fine is hiding much more hurt as people slip out of our lives.

There’s wisdom in honesty, in letting others know us, in admitting when we’re not fine.

Would you choose to believe that when someone asks, they might want to know more about how you are than fine? Would you tell them? Would you stop hiding? Would you stop damaging relationships and running from the people who care about you the most because you keep insisting that you’re fine?

No more excuses.
It just isn’t worth it.
Because sometimes, we just aren’t fine.
And it’s o.k.a.y.

Describe your current relationship with the Lord…

It’s a question we often ask while we interview, and the other day I couldn’t help but wonder what I would say if someone asked me the same question.

Because… what are we looking for?
What’s sufficient?
What’s ‘good enough’?
One girl confessed that hers wasn’t perfect, almost shamefully. I had to refrain from judging and lashing out at her: Not perfect?! Why would we ever consider you to work for a Christian ministry if your relationship with the Lord isn’t perfect?!  (kidding…)

Then again, what’s perfect?
Can it ever be perfect?
Are we ever satisfied?
Can’t we always be people who pray more, love others better, read our Bibles more consistently?

I don’t want to be a person who ever breeds guilt in other believer’s lives as they pursue Jesus. I never want to be the person who shakes my head, tsking when people tell me that they’re struggling in one of these disciplines. I just imagine this nasal-y, condescending voice that quickly tells others to read more, pray more, do more. The voice that constantly makes us feel like where we’re at will never be good enough, no matter how far we’ve come.

But when I think about a relationship with the Lord, when I ask the question about where someone is at spiritually, I really just want to know that it matters to them. That they’re seeking. That they’re allowing Scripture to transform them (and that doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re reading it for 10 minutes on schedule each day). That the truth of the Gospel permeates them to the core and doesn’t allow them to be complacent. That they desire to be obedient to the Word, that they desire to be close to the Lord…and that they’re striving to live a life of hope, joy and love.

Because if someone asked me?
I pray sporadically throughout the day.
I sometimes journal.
I try to love others.
I sometimes read the Bible or other books.
I have conversations and talk about Jesus as I do work and as it comes up in various relationships.

So, do I pass?
Is my answer sufficient?
Am I doing “enough”?
Is my relationship with the Lord good enough, thriving enough, for your definition?
Should I be doing more…?

Maybe.
Maybe I should.
But I lived that way for a better portion of my life and instead of freedom, I often encountered the guilt and shame that too easily accompanies legalism.

And so, instead of adopting a lifestyle where I’m confined by rules, I’ve found so much joy in simple obedience. In seeking to know the Lord more… through Scripture, through His creation, through people, through prayer, through music, through writing.  It looks different each day, but it matters. Above all things.

I’m not looking for a specific routine or for you to convince me that because you read a devotional that you love the Lord…
I’m wanting to know that the Gospel has changed your life and is continuing to change your life. I’m wanting to know that each day you remember that we’ve been saved from eternal damnation and that we’ve been given to abundantly because of Christ. I want to know that you are seeking obedience, seeking a life of surrender, a life of sacrifice. I want to know that your heart belongs to the Lord and He is who you will serve for all the days of your life. I want to know that you bear fruit because you abide in Him.

A relationship with the Lord goes deeper than the lists we create to feel as though we’re accomplishing something. Because, at the end of the day, no matter how much you read your Bible… are you really allowing the truth of it to change your life? Are you letting it sink in? Are you different every day because of it?

I hope so.
No matter what we’re doing to pursue a relationship with Jesus…I hope, at the end of the day, that it changes us on a daily basis. That we’re brighter reflections of Him as we are refined and made into more of His image.

Because it matters.
Even if it’s never ‘perfect’, it matters.
More than any other relationship.
All I ask is that we treat it as such.