Loyalty

Yah so basically my loyalties have changed.
Blogger is frustrating me...
I am switching to:
http://hesenther.posterous.com/

:D

For Old Time's Sake

This was written in July of 2003 at Redwood Christian Park. I had just turned 12. 

I am captured in my own pool of filth. 

Sin surrounds me; Your love abounds me, but I still cannot wash away the dirt myself. 

Lord only You can save my soul from this prison-this prison that is killing you while you still have breath.

Lord save me, hold me, make me Your servant. 

Take the key and unlock the door to this prison and my heart. 

I want to be Your child. 

Show me the light to the gates of Heaven.

Save me from death and a dirty past. 

Let me live eternally. 

Prepare me a house in Your dwelling place. 

Father wash me clean.

Let me clean my heart in clear waters.

Father brighten my candle from it's dimness. 

Pull me from the murky grave I am rotting in.

Take my heart and my hand and set me free.

I had not yet entered junior high when this was written. God's love knows no age. I chose to be baptized that summer in the RCP pool.  God has declared Redwood Christian Park an area of intimacy for Him and me. Being given the chance to work there again this summer is making me so incredibly excited. Waiting for work is like waiting for Christmas or Disneyland. All I can do is say "Daddy, are we there yet?" 

God has answered this prayer everyday since I first wrote it nearly 7 years ago. It does not get better than this. 

Soul Siblings

Why is it homeless people are referred to as transients?

And why is it when the word "transient" is used it seems to classify them as another species, as if the homeless are not even human at all...

James 1:27

Up close and personal

JJ Heller's latest song is entitled Control:

"The cut is deep, but never deep enough for me

It doesn’t hurt enough to make me forget

One moment of relief is never long enough

To keep the voices in my head from stealing my peace

Oh, control

It’s time, time to let you go

Perfection has a price, but I cannot afford to live that life

It always ends the same; a fight I never win

I’m letting go of the illusion

I’m letting go of the confusion

I can’t carry it another step

I close my eyes and take a breath

I’m letting go …

There were scars before my scars

Love written on the hands that hung the stars

Hope living in the blood that was spilled for me."

JJ Heller’s lyrical creations almost always hit home for me. This song touches a place most people do not know existed for me.

I have always desired to be in control over my life and those who directly affect it. That fact should not be a shock to anyone who has spent more than 10 minutes with me. Throughout my childhood, I was deemed bossy. Bossiness evolved into a stark independence as I realized I did not have an ounce of control over the people in my life or their decisions that would ultimately scar and shape me. Independence manifested itself into becoming my way of maintaining power over who I was and who I would become. Obviously, the ultimate theme here is: control was and is my burden, but it reaches so much farther than the independent and brave façade I crafted. At twelve I took “control” to a new level and partook in self-mutilation. Now, I would love to cast all blame on the awkward tension of junior high and the attitudes of the girls I chose to serve, but that would be immature and irresponsible. My discontentedness with the lack of control I had over my appearance, the clothes I wore, my peer relation status, the abuse I suffered, and the condition of my family actually caused me to desire physical pain. My mindset developed into: Why should I not have wounds on my physical body to match the pain I am suffering mentally? Why should I not be in control of at least one aspect of my pain?

My trust and faith had been placed in myself, and ultimately I lost all control. I could not harness my emotions, and causing myself physical pain did nothing for the mental abuse I was inflicting upon myself or suffering from.

Cutting my wrists did not cause me to feel more desired or lovely.

Having my own little self-abusive secret did not stop the negativity from flooding my impressionable mind.

Passivity had taken charge over my self-worth. I feared the opinions of those I surrounded myself with. What was life worth living if I could not live up to the standards of the pubescent pre teens surrounding me? I was desperate for independence and desperate for control of one thing in my life.

Selfish control is not a remedy for brokenness or fear. True control over my physical and mental abuse could only be put into my Father's hands. My self-inflicted pain was not only hurting me, it was breaking my Father’s heart. I was openly rejecting the scars on His wrists for my own. My spilt tears wailed out, "You do not understand. I do not look like the other girls. I am not lovely enough. I am insignificant. I am hurting. I am broken. Your sacrifice is not good enough. Where are you?" In complete compassion, He stood before me whispering: "I am here! You are beautiful! Let me drown out the words of all those insignificant mockers. This pain has already been endured for your sake. Let Me show you the life I want to live with you!" 

I was so uncertain. I loved my Savior, but how could I let Him carry the shame I found in an act I had willingly done to myself? I did not even believe it possible for someone else to be in control of my life without abusing me or causing me pain.

God brought hope to me that summer during a bible study entitled Girls of Grace; He saturated my heart with the knowledge of something more. I was released from the chains of fear and insignificance that bound me. My sights were no longer set on pleasing the girls around me, but on serving my heavenly Father and bettering my heart for Him. I knew I was worthwhile and beautiful, and it was all because He was in control.

The summer straddling 7^th and 8^th grade was my first step in letting go. I chose to no longer live for her, him, them, or myself. Relinquishing control to my Savior allowed me to trade the lies of this world in for the Truth of His Kingdom. In my brokenness I was made beautiful.

I am confronted with the choice between control and letting go each day; I choose to give my life away, because He gave it all for my sake. I may still be an independence seeking mess, but muddled amongst all my confusion I am comforted with the knowledge of my significance and value in Christ.

And even though my scars still remain today, they remind me of who is now in control of my life.

“There were scars before my scars

Love written on the hands that hung the stars

Hope living in the blood that was spilled for me." 

The reason I fell in Love:

I recently finished Redeeming Love by Francine Rivers. It was phenomenal, and it tugged at my heart in every way I expected it to. If you have never heard of this book, go buy it or ask to borrow it from me. It is a novel based on the book of Hosea. Awesome stuff.

The story of Hosea has always captivated me. God's portrayal of love to His unfaithful wife, Israel, through Hosea and Gomer's marriage just wrecks me. Why? Because I am a dirty whore much like Israel and Gomer. Hold back the shock, please.

Just about a week ago a Brother prayed John 4 over me: The story of the Samaritan woman at the well. Now, what the Spirit spoke to him was paralleling the woman and her testimony to me. My friend rejoiced in her as the first missionary. The woman was so enraptured by the Messiah and His promise that she left the only thing she carried with her to tell the entire town about Him. She was relentless in her sharing because His love relentlessly revealed and pursued her. Her testimony and the words of Christ led many to call Jesus "the Savior of the world (John 4.42)." She sparked curiosity about Jesus and propelled an entire town of people to His arms. As my Brother encouraged this role in me, I could only dare to dream to share in this side of the character of the woman at the well.

The Samaritan woman was also said to have had 5 husbands, and the man she had when she met Jesus was not one of them. But my friend disregarded her unfaithfulness in regards to how he perceived my own lifestyle. Pure perhaps? Faithful? I am not entirely sure. But what I do know is this: I feel more like the Samaritan woman in this aspect than the Jesus-sharing, evangelistic missionary woman she was transformed in to.

I am a dirty whore.

I prostitute myself to my own debilitating fear and control issues each and every day. I know that 1st Timothy 4:12 says do not let others look down on you because you are young, but I regularly look down on myself for being young. I allow my own condemnation to limit what I hear from God and this in turn leads me to a place of unhealthy passivity and an apathetic sin nature. I used to allow myself to make lists of what I thought my life should be filled with. For years, I fooled myself into believing that these lists were my way of trusting God, when, in reality, I was testing Him. I cannot making a shopping list for my husband, family, job, lifestyle, home, and church. Making my own list eliminates the bounty of choices my Savior wants to bring and bless me with.

I play mistress to my image more than I care to admit. Trying to appear as if I do not care takes just as much work as actually caring.

I lust after the opinions of my family. I gorge myself upon their approval of my potential rather than my true Father and Family's encouragement.

And this is why the story of Hosea speaks to my soul: YHWH still calls me His Beloved even when I run to the arms of my other lovers. He craves my affection and attention. He desires to hear me sing out His name no matter how soiled or dirty I become. He longs to make me His one and only so that His righteousness, justice, love, and compassion may be made known to me. I am a dirty whore, and He loves me just as I am. I will continue to break His heart, and He will continue to delight in me just as He always has.

And His Love is what has captivated the essence of my very being.

I am that Samaritan woman, in her testimony of His love and the reality of her promiscuity.

I am Israel, so unfaithful and yet so desired.

I am Gomer, deemed so undeserving of love, redemption, and faithfulness but completely soaked in it.

He will always be my Everything, my Savior, my Sunrise, my Love, and my Abba.

And I will be His Hephzibah, His Beloved, and His Daughter from now until forever.

Hosea 2:14:“But then I will win her back once again.
I will lead her into the desert
and speak tenderly to her there" (NLT)

Hosea 2:15: "There she will sing as in the days of her youth." (NIV)

Hosea 2:19-20: "I will make you my wife forever,

showing you righteousness and justice,
unfailing love and compassion.
²⁰ I will be faithful to you and make you mine,
and you will finally know me as the Lord." (NLT)

Someday Sunday.

Jesus rocked my mind at Expression58 this morning. Home church? Potentially.

I am having one of those moments where I just want to run away and live in an eternal state of Alaskan summer with my YHWH. Just my trusty NorthFace gear, a bible, and an abundance of moleskine's, green highlighters, and pens. Just the thought makes my heart absolutely ache after something wild, untamed, and raw. The grass would be my pillow and the sky my blanket.

But alas, I am here in this season for a reason, and I love it (for the most part).

And that's how you know

It's love:

Song of Songs 2:10

Hosea 2:19-20

Isaiah 62:5

Picture perfect promises delivered by Love.

Hummus makes for happiness.

My room has a map in it. It covers a large portion of one wall. Pushpins are lovingly shoved into continents and countries I long to see. Ever since Alaska, the course of those pins has taken a drastic change. No longer is Europe the dominating terrain but Africa, the Middle East, and Central America. I have always longed to travel, but once my heart began discovering the expanse of Love, that longing was transformed into a desire to see the poor, desolate nations and recognize them as beautiful and desirable.

I am lacking in listening in so many regards, but as I begin to catch little snippets from my Savior, my heart aches for community and the ability to Love others better. I am hungry to explore and see, but I also feel as if I have something incredibly beautiful right in front of me. For years, I desperately desired to attend Pepperdine for the prestige. But that desire has been transformed into a passion for a campus and an area/people in need of Love.

As I trekked to the cafeteria yesterday evening, I coyly avoided my normal route and opted for an ocean view. As I gazed out over an expanse of stormy seas and cloud-laden sky, I wondered how I could have ever desired to look into the eyes of another, when, my Father allows me to see His beauty in the depths of the ocean. My arms instinctively wrapped themselves around me to keep the chill and anticipation of rain at bay. And as I held myself for warmth, my Father enveloped me with the knowledge of His Love and desire for my heart, plans, and passions. I know I always say this but He really is just so good-no one else can give me such peace, joy, or smiles!

The end.

Supa Soaker.

I have decided that resilience is a miracle and an extension of God's grace.

I am stepping into a new season of my life at the moment, and I can honestly say I am incredibly stoked to see what He is going to teach me, where He is going to lead me, and how I am going to encounter Him more.

Being back in Modesto for a few months has me incredibly excited. I am going to miss my Pepperdine family something fierce, but I am stoked to love up on the central valley and start attending Reality Stockton.

Work at Redwood starts June 20th. I have my anxieties...but a beautiful dose of Glory is putting my heart and mind in a better place about it all.

I will be deciding over the next few days if I will live in London for fall semester or not. My only barrier really seems to be myself(minus the financial aid aspect). For a girl who craves adventure and travel, I sure have seemed to develop a bit of hindering fear. I am wrestling with this opportunity, the fact that I am actually being blessed with the thought of it all, and wondering how God could possibly use me there when I was so sure Malibu was it for me. Weekends in Scotland, Ireland, France and Spain sure sound nice though. Not to mention the week long field trip to Greece, Germany, and some exploration of Italy right before Christmas. My Northface, moleskine, and TOMS are already itching to be carried across Europe for that four month period.

On other notes: Please go see How to Train Your Dragon. It was epic.

Worship time was just joyful this week. God speaks lyrically. These songs were introduced to my heart:

Cielo- Phil Wickham

Carried to the Table- Leeland

Speak to Me- Evan Wickham

Light up the World- Desperation Band

My Brightness- Charlie Hall

Check em out!

I have been loved through Hosea, Obadiah, and Amos lately.

1 & 2 Timothy answered my prayerful questions on the tension of doctrine.

Isaiah 40: God's glory? Most definitely.

Where is the Love?

I love my new yellow linen TOMS.

I love Pepperdine.

I love knowing that my heart is being pursued by the painter of sunsets, the singer of all songs, and the creator of the stars.

When inadequacy, negative self-image, control issues, and tears threaten to ruin joy, I know I can look to my Daddy.

He pursues me as the beautiful bride of Christ amidst the ugliness I feel and the brokenness I identify with.

There is the love.

He is life. He is Love.

My Silver Lining.

Last week Pepperdine's chapter of I(nternational)J(ustice)M(ission) hosted Anti-Human Trafficking Week.

I may be biased, but IJM is basically the best thing out there.

We handed out price tags for students to wear symbolizing that they were taking a stand against human slavery, hosted speakers, screened an anti-human trafficking movie, and hosted a Rock Opera about human trafficking written by one of Pepperdine's own.

Praise God for last week!

Abolition!

Pepperdine has some passionate people :)

Besides this being one of the biggest things on my heart, that is not the point of this post.

As part of Abolition Week, Anne Bissell, a sex trafficking victim, came to speak at Pepperdine.

Her story and recovery completely ripped me apart.

I have heard it said by multiple pastors in a wonderful city about 9 hours north of here, that your passion is what moves you to tears. When you hear a certain subject matter and it moves you to tears...well...that's passion. And it is not just the death and resurrection...because as the bride of Christ, we should all be moved to tears by His sacrifice.

Well, for me, it is sexual slavery/rape/sexual exploitation. I will break down every time. Guaranteed.

I really do not know how to convey what I want to say.

But you know what, Anne Bissell does...

Check out her organization, The Silver Braid, at

www.thesilverbraid.org

Stand up. Support. And fight.

Homer is where the heart is...

That summer I...

Ate bear meat.

Had no idea what The Shack was...who knew I would be hugging Paul Young roughly one year later.

Fell head over heals in love with Him...again.

Realized what Beauty was.

Worshipped.

Knew academia could no longer be lord of my life.

Felt intimacy.

Finally opened the ears and eyes of my heart.

Did not realize how interconnected that experience would still be to this very year, day, and moment.

Encountered Him.

More often than not Homer and the Arctic Mercy staff is on my heart.

I did not have to travel to Alaska to have my eyes opened...

But I am more than a little bit thankful that I was able to encounter God's Holy Spirit in an untouched tundra shrouded in beauty and ceaseless summer.

I am also thankful God spoke through these people.

(+Bethany!)

Who is this God?

King of glory.

You are Holy.

The Lion and the Lamb.

Hallelujah.

Oh Messiah, You are the great I Am.

L is for the way He looks at me...

My lesson for the past 2 weeks has been on Love.

Sounds so cliché. Yet so incredibly necessary.

I cannot even begin to define or iterate what I would like to say, because I still lack any sense of the entire matter.

All I know is that intimacy has manifested itself within my soul, and an incredible spark of Holy saturation has occurred upon my spirit.

This Love…

Love.

My heart wants to pound right out of my chest.

I cannot even express what I want to convey on this paper.

I feel incredibly weak typing all of this up, because all I want to do is sing this at full voice with arms held high and feet whirling me around the floor in pure adoration. That is the only way I can think of conveying this feeling without bursting into tears.

And this still does not capture even the essence of an introduction for what I could possibly say about this Love.

This Love that brings healing and restoration in every aspect of my personal life.

This Love that pursues and holds my trembling hand through my most vulnerable and honest moments.

This Love that has seen all the ugly that I truly am and still shakes my soul each morning with the scriptural whisper of, “You are wonderful.”

This Love that I cannot possibly give due credit to.

In all seriousness, words will never do this justice.

And I am well aware I still remain so incredibly ignorant to what this Love truly is.

I will never understand the web of interconnectivity.

I will never understand the depth.

I will never cease to be surprised, amazed, shocked, and in awe of the things He does, even though they are completely natural.

But in all seriousness…who would take such an active interest in my life?

Who would craft such an intimate, beautiful, manifestation of “coincidences” and connectivity in my life in a way that absolutely delights my soul?

Who would cast aside the past and condemnation to present me with grace and mercy?

Love, that’s who.

Hey Jesus thank You for connecting:

That one trip, with that one leader, with that one country, with that one book, with that one couple, with that one mission organization, with that one church, with that one city, with that one worship group, with that one school, with another school, with all those lives, with that one life, with everything I do, and with You….

And it has been less than 2 years.

“If you think this is crazy Heather…just wait and see what I will do…”

WHAT?!

Due Credit:

Recent circumstances, Rachel, Furious Love, unhindered worship, Galatians 5:6, Isaiah, Psalm 139, Hosea, & Romans.

Oh…and Jesus. Duh.

TOMS

I have become obsessed with TOMS.

If I had a million dollars, I would own every design and then buy them for everyone I know.

My parents have even become obsessed with the pair Dani crafted for me.

They are comfy.

They are wonderful.

AND they help people.

I will be wearing them at my wedding...and my entire wedding party will be wearing them as well...be excited.

My firsts: Designed by the lovely Miss Danielle Hicks

Late but it is still Lent

I do that whole Lent thing. I am not Catholic, and that whole denomination thing does not mean much to me (although I do develop a bit of pride when one talks about John Wesley…Blame it on my early socialization in the Methodist church).

But I still do that whole Lent thing. I like it for numerous reasons. If you want elaboration…just ask.

Anywho…back to the point of this post. I mulled over many ideas in preparation for the 40 days leading up to Easter. I had really wanted to do a Daniel Fast for the entire 40 days, but after partaking in one at the beginning of the semester I found Pepperdine’s caf lacking in even vegetarian friendliness. So essentially, I would starve. I am all in favor of actual 40 day fasts, but uh…unless God writes it in the sky for me, I will not be trying to kill myself through fasting any time soon.

40 days of Daniel is a different story though, but Dorm living makes it incredibly difficult. When I have an apartment and am allowed a rice cooker, blender, and George Foreman this will be an entirely different story. Better luck next year!

Anywho…back to what I am actually doing for Lent. In attempts to become a better communicator, I felt led to give up a form of communication. Tricky huh?

So, for Lent I will be fasting (ha…had to get it in there somewhere!) from conversational text messaging.

Yes, I still want to hear about your day, but please just call me. 15 minutes on the telephone is so much more personal than 15 text messages.

Do not leave me lonely because your phobia of phone conversations triumphs over talking.

If you have a funny story to tell me…I would much rather hear you laugh out loud than reading “lol, bahaha, or lmao” twelve times.

If something is actually not going well, how I am supposed to be able to interpret that in a text message?

Oh, and do not even get me started on text message sarcasm, context, or interpretation…

All in all…let’s talk. Let me hear your voice, and you can hear mine.

Happy Lent season folks: let’s make this last longer than 40 days.

Let’s communicate.

Let’s have Jesus’ resurrection on the brain all of the time J

Bippity Bloggity Boston

Traveling just seems to cry out in a pure simplicity that defines my ecstasy. Adrenaline pulses through my body at each take off, leaving me breathlessly content. Chai tea lattes await me at each terminal. Books cannot escape the intimate caress of my fingertips, as my eyes lustfully absorb their content. Must I even elaborate on the hoards of people that are scrutinized by my mind and eye?

I have said it before and I will say it again: I would adore just spending a day sitting at SFO.

But, I am not currently in the Golden State.

I am on the Eastern Seaboard!

And as my time here in Boston comes to a close, I cannot help but feel a little tug at my heart. This city is honestly quite beautiful. I have spent time in NYC, and well, frankly it was a blast, but it is nothing in comparison to Boston. The architecture, the river, the parks, the churches, the shops, the schools, the ice-skating, the museums, the dessert, and the love.

The fact that my nose and ears have been incredibly numb the past few days brings me nothing but joy. My legs ache from walking, but my eyes glisten with the wonders beheld. The exploration of this unknown has given me great pleasure. Stripping off layers each time a building is entered, zipping a multitude of zippers, and knowing my North Face jacket loves me as much as I love it-can you imagine the smile that has scarcely left my lips these last few days?

I am still so incredibly amazed at the wonders God crafts. This city is so rich in history. I cannot even iterate my thoughts on the beauty of brick buildings and heavenly flakes that coat my hair as Danielle an I shop, talk, giggle, and eat (and by eat…I mean eat dessert. Let’s hope everyone back home thinks I look great with 15 extra pounds-damn cannolis).

My point with all of this is: I am transferring. Just kidding! My heart is belongs to Pepperdine momentarily.

But in seriousness-this entire city is incredibly delightful, and I will be returning here within the near feature. I would even love to live here for a small period of time.

I am so thankful for the opportunity and adventure of travel. Besides the fact that I can sleep 10 hours on a dorm couch or drool through an entire flight, the nature to “go” seems inherently laced with my being. I love going, seeing, and living this life I have been blessed with.

My visit to Boston has allowed for me to indulge the spirit of adventure and travel God has placed within me. Thank You Father!

Adventures I am still seeking in cities I have yet to visit:

Denver, Colorado

Portland, Oregon

Las Vegas, Nevada

San Diego, California.

Let’s make it happen.

Dear Daughter...

My daughter, I know you feel completely broken, but I hold the pieces of your heart in My hand. Your crying may seem insignificant to you, but your tears are in My record. Daughter, turn towards me so that I may wipe every tear from your eye. Little girl, your Father is here.
On this Valentine’s Day I give to you an abundance of gifts.
May the face of the flowers smile upon you today in full bloom.

Let the sunshine kiss your shoulders. May your toes be coated in the sand I have been crafting for centuries. Feast upon the play of dolphins in the surf. They swim an ocean that is a puddle in comparison to My love for you. May laughter escape your lips as I send ladybugs to tickle your fingertips and face.

May your eyes take in My masterpiece. I crafted the sunset to ignite a smile upon your face and peace within your heart.

Each of these gifts are from this Father to His beloved little girl.
Oh daughter, hear this: I am enthralled by your beauty. Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me. I love you. Trust Me with your heart. Have I ever failed you? I know you, My daughter. I know what is on your heart, and I know what is best for My little girl. Trust me. Allow Me to carry you. Allow Me to lead you away.
I will betroth you to me forever…in love and compassion. I Am here. Come to the arms of your Father. Turn towards the abundance of My love. Do not cry sweet girl, for I will bestow on you a crown of beauty instead of ashes. Gladness instead of tears. Praise instead of despair. You will know My splendor. You will know My love.
Death could not stop My love for you, and I will never stop pursuing you. Dry your eyes, and know that I will never leave you. Dry your eyes so that you may know the beauty before you.
Happy Valentine’s Day precious girl.

Heal me.

This song has been convicting me all week:

"You hold my every moment
You calm my raging seas
You walk with me through fire
And heal all my disease

I trust in You
I trust in You

I believe You're my Healer
I believe You are all I need
I believe You're my Portion
I believe You're more than enough for me
Jesus You're all I need

Nothing is impossible for You
Nothing is impossible for You
Nothing is impossible for You
You hold my world in Your hands

I believe You're my Healer
I believe You are all I need
I believe You're my Portion
I believe You're more than enough for me
Jesus You're all I need."


Reasoning for my conviction? I honestly cannot sing this song without being a liar.
Why? Because in my heart I am having trouble believing those things, even though, in my mind, I know them to be true.
Or I know they are supposed to be true.
I do not do the vulnerability/honesty/openness/communication thing very well, and I am realizing that more and more each day. Crap.
Thanks Jesus.

Caution: Questions ahead.

Joyful and optimistic seem to describe me a good portion of the time.
But can I be honest for a moment? I mean, if I cannot be honest to the Internet than whom can I be honest with?
Today started out completely horrid. There was no reason for it to. I just woke up sincerely wishing the day were already over. Call it a bad case of the Monday’s, but frankly, I do not buy that. I just woke up with the knowledge that this particular day already had it out for me.
Obviously, I am exaggerating a bit, but at first blink, when my 7:29 alarm sounded, those were my honest to goodness feelings.
I think this mood may have been brought on by the fact that my heart has been incredibly troubled for the past 32ish days.
What do you do when heartbreak seems inevitable? Whose fault is it? Is it anyone’s fault? Will it ever go away? How many different types of heartbreak are there? And is worrying about my own heart even relevant when the hearts of those around me are in desperate need of something I may have to offer?
Is this all an attribution of the Fall? Does the difficulty of deciphering His voice rest in the garden?
I cannot hear the voice of God like I should. I dare say none of us can. We try.
Oh, we try so desperately. Sometimes we hear. Sometimes we see. But, a good portion of the time I would wager we do not.
If I could just listen. If I could just silence my mind, mouth, and ambitions, would pain really be avoidable? Would we really be filled with the glorious expectations our Father has hidden for us?
My heart hungers for that intimate relationship with my Savior.
Because we are connected by His heartbreak.
But, all I really want is Eden.
Uganda proposes an anti-homosexual act calling for practicing homosexuals to be executed. We are waging war. Capital punishment. Slaughter of sin should not be taken out against the body of those in practice. If that were the case, we would all be bloodied and dying where we stand. Sin needs to be slaughtered in the heart. I do not mean to sound quite so pacifist here…but maybe I am. Do we not remember the happenings of the Holocaust? Has anyone looked at Rwanda in the past few decades? And what about Haiti? What is happening now? Amidst all of this, how can your heart not break? Where do we go from here? And where does the “go-to-college-to-get-your-degree-so-you-can-get-a-job-and-provide-a-house-and-stability-for-a-family-with-two-kids-and-a-dog” dream come into play? Where is God among all those hyphens?
And as I said before, all I really want is Eden.


The Good Things:
I just ate an entire bag of Chex Mix-score!
Crying.
Fudge from downtown Disney.
Eating off campus.
Disneyland with Ben, Kevin, and Rachel.
A phone call from Cameron.
NorCal visitor this weekend!
Sociology.
RA decision tomorrow.
Taking a risk and requesting an application for a summer something....? (prayer please please!)
Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.

Everest is Small in the Eyes of a Savior

My exceptionally beautiful roommate is a gem. Just days before Christmas we discussed God’s monumental ability to move mountains-the big kind, the little kind, and the literal kind. Her pastor(amazing guy. Check him out at www.bridgesworldwide.org) challenged their entire congregation to pray for the moving of a mountain. 40 days of prayer. 1 mountain moved.
So, you know how everyone always says, “God answers prayer?”
Well…He does. He did. But it is so much bigger than that.
Exactly 40 days have passed, and we watched as God moved an entire mountain right before our eyes.
We have committed ourselves to prayer. And this “we” is not just Kendra and me. This generation. A multitude of students, or servants rather, are pursuing a life of prayer.
Why?
Because God is here among us. He pulls at our hearts to come together and seek Him. We want Him to show up on our campus, in our lives, and in the lives of those we feel so incredibly responsible for.
But how?
For us, it is in the middle of our dorm room floor on a rug that is aching to be united with a vacuum. Suddenly something that was estimated to take 3 minutes turns into 30 minutes, as we lay weeping in a hand holding huddle on the floor. We dive into a fit of feverish prayer as God reveals His heart to us. Laughter erupts into shouts of praise, and voices mingle together in a torrent of tears and whispering.
We no longer remember we happen to be kneeling on a rug that at one time was white…I think.
We are transported into a taste of His Kingdom-of Heaven on earth. And mountains move.
With prayers come answers.
With death comes life. And that statement’s implications are unfathomably larger than anyone could ever possibly understand at this time.

As I write this blog, my hand switches between the multitude of letters I am composing, my journal, and this sporadic word/heart vomit you have chosen to read. As I write this blog, a boy throws pebbles at my window. As I write this blog, it is time to attend to the arduous task of laundry. As I write this blog, the phone rings. As I write this blog, I am interrupted by circumstances, situations, and people I was not expecting.
But isn’t that what life is? A conglomeration of beautiful interruptions from the expected?
And isn’t that what prayer should be? A beautiful interruption from the mundane or the expectations of this world?
This world does not expect to see mountains moving.
But as sons and daughters we should.
Let it be said of us:
“They spend much time in prayer, not because they watch the shadow on the dial or the hands on the clock, but because it is to them so momentous and engaging a business that they can scarcely quit.” –E.M. Bounds

Ask me about that mountain.




The good things for the last weekish:
Surviving Monday’s/Thursday’s, Brody’s constant pebble propelling tendencies, CPK hot or leftover, Ben’s strength, scripture sharing from Blake, Rachael’s initiative, IJM meetings, contact from someone I ardently pray will still be my best friend, practical jokes at the expense of Kendra, contact with a long lost youth pastor, Natalie’s adventure with Jesus, a mass amount of intercession, conversing with the lovely Danielle Hicks, prayer circles, a letter from that boot camp buddy of mine, and hugs amidst a whole mess of tears whether they be my own or everyone else’s.



The Countdown:
Disneyland in 4 days. Help for Haiti in 1 week. Rob Bell in 2.5 weeks. Boston in 3.5 weeks. Jesus Culture in 2 months. Summer Staff in 4.5 months.

Here comes the Son

Do you ever feel like you should just be awake? Now, sleeping is one of my favorite activities, but at times I feel like I could be missing something spectacular. There is a sense of wonder in the dawning of a new day. The sun climbs aimlessly higher into a conglomeration of clouds, and the possibilities of the next twenty-four hours are stretched out before you in an array of shadows and sky with a color palate comparable to a bowl of rainbow sherbet.
Sunrise is my favorite time of day-hands down.
It always has been.
It always will be.
Now, being a college student has greatly compromised my viewing of God’s masterful artwork in the early morning, but I love it nonetheless.
The sunrise was definitely not my priority this morning. Plagued with an inefficient amount of sleep this week, my down laden bed was most definitely my priority before a 10 am class. But, in spite of my desperation for some shuteye, I awoke at 6:24.
Now, I have no trouble falling back asleep when woken up. Just ask my roommate. I can sleep through her 7:45 am class preparation with microwave in use and lights on.
But this morning was different.
As I sat up to check the time, something within me knew I should rub the sleep from my eyes and turn my heart towards my Father.
“I have something to show you.”
My alarm was not set to go off for another hour or two.
“I have never disappointed you.
My sheets continued to play the role of ultimate seductress.
“Come on. I have something I want my little girl to see.”
So, while most of Malibu slept, I trekked across campus to enjoy a breakfast date with my Savior, and as I strolled across the plaza, my face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morn. The sky proceeded to unwrap itself in ribbons of golden hues intertwined with touches of peach and lavender.
The heavens were declaring the name of my beloved YHWH.
And that dose of artfully mastered sky was exactly what my heart needed.
Sleep may have been what I wanted.
But we all know God gives us the desire of our heart. (Ps. 37.4)
And even though I was fully unaware of my need at 6:24 this morning, my heart desperately desired a masterpiece-a true depiction of love in the early morning.

Opting out of the Umbrella

I love these days where the ocean and the sky are completely indistinguishable. The horizon cannot decide where to begin, end, or even appear for that matter. White caps and clouds simulate an illusion of my own Atlantis.
I surmise that one perfectly maneuvered leap would launch me into the depths of the blue surrounding me. I would be swimming and flying all at once.
And while my body longs to take that leap of faith, the heavens plead to sequester the showers within their masses and saturate the world in salt, sea, and sky.
There is such sweet release in rain.
Somehow my Creator seems to know that the only kisses I need are the droplets that He pours from the sky onto my bare skin. And somehow He makes life livable, because not everything will be okay all the time.
But I am okay with not being okay, because His love rains down similar to the torrents that are flooding the earth momentarily.
So, I say, let it pour.
Saturate.
Drench me.
Rain upon the world torrents of healing and redemption.
Reign upon the world forevermore in Your divine love.

Are you there blog? It's me Heather...

I have been anchored to my bed since roughly 2pm.
Thankfully my microwave resides roughly 1 yard from me at all times.
My dinner is consisting of original flavored organic oatmeal and Dove caramel filled chocolates. So essentially paste and sugar. Chicken noodle soup may sound delicious….but how much Campbell’s is one body actually allowed to consume before their sodium intake sky rockets them to an unnaturally early death? Praise the Lord Jesus that I am only 18 and have time to stop these insane eating habits.
Some days are just better than others.

The good things:

Reads: An anatomically gruesome description of the reversal of the decaying process of the human body has been my inspiration for the past few days. Ezekiel 37. God inspires me in the most entertaining ways. Ask if you really want my elaboration on that passage. Oh and John 17-sometimes God just needs to bring you back!
Honorable mention include: Matthew 6, Jesus Culture by Banning, and the fortunes found on the inside of those scrumptious Dove chocolates.

My roommate: Amidst my heartbreak she sets herself up for “That’s what she said” jokes, prays over my heavy heart, forces me to verbalize anything and everything, and still sings like every Disney princess ever created. That is love.

The ocean: Once again God painted a masterpiece from my window. What else is new?

Reality: No, the reality of life is not being categorized under my “good things.” Reality the church. Holla to Los Angeles and Carpentaria.

God: this needs no explanation.

H is for Heather, Haiti, Hikes, and Hope.

Provision.
Dream big.
Pray.
God will honestly give you the desires of your heart, if you are truly seeking Him.
My heart burns for the study body at this campus, and somehow one of the most expensive schools in the nation is keeping me around.
I am not terribly special. I would consider myself rather ordinary.
But.
My heart dreams at an alarming rate.
My mind is always functioning at an obnoxiously insomniac level.
One word to describe my relationship with Abba? –Go.
One country has invaded my thoughts for years, but the timing is not quite right.
It is 2010, and I hear “Not yet.”
I have a 4 month summer to serve.
So.
I sit burning, yearning, waiting, and learning.
But patience, discernment, and guidance from His Holy Spirit have been my earnest request lately.
So, how did I suddenly end up with the exact amount of two round trip tickets to Haiti?
Prayer.
Dream Big.
Provision.

I may be a girl, but I am not a sissie.

Revolutions are not for sissies.

The infamous "R" word-Revolution. It is seen as rebellious, radical, and other scandalous words beginning with the lovely letter "R".

America was founded on the principle of a revolution. It was brilliantly daring and undoubtedly inspiring. It spread like wildfire amongst the eastern seaboard. It was painful, chaotic, and messy. It stripped the flesh of hindrance and rallied a cry for freedom. Lives were lost. The contentment of colonial normalcy was obliterated. The desperation for change created a need for destruction. The bravery and heart of those revolutionaries led to victory.

Revolutions are not for sissies.

Complacency seems to define the hearts of the present. Apathy has replaced energy.

And what is it we need now? What fire will ignite the hearts of the present? An eastern seaboard is no longer the only thing in need of wildfire.

Is a spiritual revolution in the works?

This revolution will be brilliantly daring and undoubtedly inspiring. It will be Heavenly, prophetic, and healing. Is God rallying a cry for freedom and healing? Hasn't God always been rallying a cry for freedom and healing? What has hindered our ears from hearing the heartbeat of our most beloved Savior? When will our hearts turn to the nations? God's heart has never stopped aching for the oppressed, the fatherless, and the widow (Is. 1:17). Why has ours?

Our desperation for Holy change should cause direct destruction upon the compliance our hearts have taken to the present. The title of "Christian" is not assurance of salvation. The road to salvation is narrow and only a few find it (Mt. 7:13). Lives will be lost to the width of today's definition of Christianity. But the all encompassing grace of Christ ensures victorious strides towards feeling the heartbeat of our Creator. Trade apathy for an irresistible appetite for His love. Let complacency be transformed into compassion for the nations, for His children, and for His heart.

A revolution is defined as: a sudden, complete or marked change in something. Can our hearts be defined as being marked by change? A change which enraptures us in the knowledge of the love of our Savior has for this world, this generation, and this people? Being a follower of Jesus Christ is a revolution. Jesus of Nazareth riddled His way through parables, went weeks without eating, and dined with those deemed disgusting. Jesus was rebellious, radical, and a whole mess of other scandalous words beginning with the lovely letter "R". He was revolutionary. He is revolutionary. At what cost will you partake in this revolution? Our hearts should be ablaze with the glory that is YHWH. He calls us to embark upon this path that will leave our hearts suddenly, completely, and remarkably changed. And when our hearts align with His, we will know victory.

Jesus is not for sissies.