I Spoke Up

Today I decided to stop talking about things I wanted to do and actually do them. I decided to start living into the greatness bestowed upon me by He who decided my life was worth His own. I decided to speak up, and I named my blog that after Steffany Gretzinger's song "I Spoke Up," creative, huh? If you're curious, here is the song & lyrics: Everyone knows that I was the good girl I did my best to make everyone happy with me But then I found out that It was impossible to please the whole crowd  So I spoke up, I spoke out  I learned that love don’t hold its tongue  And passion doesn’t bow to what they think  It’s you and me  Sometimes it’s painful to be brave  To look fear in the face  And know your name  To find your strength  So here I am, not holding my tongue and not bowing to what they think. I've decided to live into the promise that "perfect love casts out all fear" (1 John 4:18) and...

A Story About Seasons. She left a piece of herself everywhere she went. For some reason she just couldn’t keep herself together. If you were to see her you might feel sorry, maybe a little sad, perhaps even intrigued by the sight of her being. Only her core remained in tact, while the rest of her shed like a tree in the autumn. She wasn’t sure how it started, but what she did know was that everyone else seemed to keep it together. It didn’t really matter to her, though, because she was never angry at the trees for being bare in the winter nor the animals for hibernating in the cold — she knew that the most natural things in life have their seasons and she refused to believe she was an exception to that rule. So she looked more closely at those who “had it together,” their own leaves hot glued to their branches, dyed green to keep them vibrant, plastic branches taped to their hand-painted trunks, and she thought to herself if only they knew, withering does not mean death and...

There is no glory in doing what’s easy. Sure, what’s easy gets the job done quickly and painlessly, but it does not carry the blood, sweat, and tears that bear witness to the extent and depth of the glory. No athlete, artist, or entrepreneur has ever received recognition or breakthrough from doing what’s easy. In the same way, there are no miracles in magic. Magic is often a momentary illusion, a glimpse of the impossible that vanishes as quickly as it appears. It’s often founded on lies and misdirection, though it leaves its witnesses stunned and awestruck by its wit. Miracles can be more mundane. They don’t carry fairy dust or come with the flash and flare of the stage, often they happen behind the scenes in the midst of quiet desperation. When hope has been lost and the task at hand feels impossible, the scene is set for the miraculous to have its debut. People may doubt it, some may be skeptical, but those who receive the miracle are forever transformed. Life cannot be the same...