fruitful.

Trigger warning: Content related to depression and suicide. 

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I woke up this morning, made a cup of coffee, and started scrawling in my journal. I cherish these moments of quiet when I get to pour out my heart on a page meant only for the eyes of my Creator, Sustainer, and Friend. 

After settling in and sharing some scattered thoughts, I found myself writing these words:

"I have a very full life...I'm glad to be alive."

It leapt off my pen and onto the page as if I had nonchalantly written down what I had eaten for breakfast or what TV show I had watched last night. No big deal, right?
But, it is a big deal. It's a really big deal to me. 

Several years ago I would not have been able to write those words, let alone mean them. I was in the middle of a season of deep, suffocating darkness. As I wrote those words in my journal earlier today I realized that God has led me into the light again. I won't pretend to have all the answers, and I know that everyone's story of depression and/or the risk of suicide is unique. But, there are a few things I want to share from my experience.

I know what it's like to be held in the clutches of despair, wishing that the darkness would envelop me into nothingness and the pain would cease to exist. I know what it's like for every breath to hurt. For every moment to feel like an eternity. I know what it's like to make a plan and decide to end it all. I know what it's like to wake up in the hospital and get angry...so, so angry, because I am still alive and have to face yet another tomorrow. 

In the depths of my darkest hours, I begged God for a reason to keep going. For some semblance of hope. For something solid to grab ahold of while the floor was disintegrating under my feet. Days, weeks, months, and years of trying countless medications and therapy sessions, hospitals, and treatment centers. Desperate prayers in the middle of the night. 

All the coping skills and validation and processing meant nothing when I felt no hope. I needed a why. A reason to stay. A reason to be alive that was bigger than my pain. If there is no hope, there is no reason not to jump ship when the storm rages. Life hurts! Sometimes it hurts so bad it doesn't feel like it's worth living. And sometimes no matter how hard you work, it doesn't feel better. There has to be a why. A reason. A lighthouse to steer toward in the storm. 

To be honest, I never had a moment where the light flipped on and suddenly everything made sense. 

For me, hope came softly.

It was like a whisper in the dark or a gentle breeze on a scorching day. My problems did not go away and my feelings did not shift overnight. But I found something to hold onto amid the darkness.

"I'm not finished with you yet, Joanna."

Approximately 150,000 people die every day on earth. Tomorrow is not promised. I know this. But despite my best efforts, I am still alive. 

I have come to believe that there is a reason, a why, for the fact that I am still here when I should have been dead a long time ago. 

 When I look at the world, it's easy to believe that there is no meaning in life. That we are all here as a result of a random accident, stumbling in the dark. There is so much senseless pain and suffering and evil. When I look at the world it's easy to come to the conclusion that my best option is to seek out as much pleasure as possible during my short life because nothing else seems to matter.  

But when I lift my eyes, I see a different story. 

If I really believe that God is real (and I do), then life takes on a new meaning. The message of the Gospel is that God saw the state of humanity and had compassion. He stepped in to save the world from this hampster wheel of bitter survival. And because I have put my faith in Jesus, I have been adopted into His family. I have been transferred from the land of despair to the kingdom of redemption. 

God has given my life purpose, with real value and real meaning. 

I am here because the world is desperate for hope, and because of Jesus, I am carrying hope in my spirit. The pain, suffering, and evil are not the end of the story. This hope that I carry is meant to be shared. 

There is fruitful work for me to do in my time left on earth. I find it in the pages of my well worn Bible: 

To love others with the love of Christ,
to share the joy of knowing Jesus
to change and grow into the person God intended me to be,
to pray fervently for the salvation and the redemption of others,
to get to know my Heavenly Father better,
to share the exciting news of a life worth living.

And the very best news is that I am not called to do any of this on my own. God is with me and for me and His goodness overwhelms me. I have His affection on the hardest days and His grace for my deepest shame.  He is the one who changes hearts, heals wounds, and brings about growth. He is worthy of my everything. And He welcomes my messy life, poured out at His feet and for His glory. 

There are days I still wish I could skip the hard parts and just scan my boarding pass to Heaven immediately. But it would be a loss for me to leave when there is still so much for me to do and to experience. 

I don't dread waking up to a new day, anymore. I imagine that there will be days in my future that I will struggle to face tomorrow. But for now, I am just so very glad to be alive. 

I didn't think I would ever feel the sun on my skin again, but here I am and it feels so good. 

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Note: If you or someone that you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide, don't hesitate to reach out for help. There were so many resources to strengthen you to keep going when you want to quit and you do not need to suffer alone. There is hope! If you need immediate help please call 911 or go to the nearest emergency room. If you need someone to talk to, call 988, the national help-line. You are also invited to send me a personal message. You are not alone and yes, it can get better!

"For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain. If I am to go on living in the body, this will mean fruitful labor for me. Yet what shall I choose? I do not know! I am torn between the two: I desire to depart and be with Christ, which is better by far; but it is more necessary for you that I remain in the body. Convinced of this, I know that I will remain, and I will continue with all of you for your progress and joy in the faith, so that through my being with you again your boasting in Christ Jesus will abound on account of me." -Philippians 1:22-26

"I was pushed hard, so that I was falling, but the LORD helped me. The LORD is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation." - Psalm 118:13-14

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." -Philippians 3:12-14

"I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the LORD. The LORD has disciplined me severely, but he has not given me over to death." - Psalm 118:17-18

"The cords of death encompassed me;

    the torrents of destruction assailed me;

the cords of Sheol entangled me;

    the snares of death confronted me.

In my distress I called upon the Lord;

    to my God I cried for help.

From his temple he heard my voice,

    and my cry to him reached his ears."
-all of Psalm 18

the most beautiful thing.

When one comes to the absolute end of themselves there is an unspeakable impact on one's soul.

It leaves a mark. A permanent, deep, profound, and often painful mark.

This is the place where in one single moment, darkness seeps in while the light brings blinding clarity. I have come to know this place over the years. It's become a familiar stop along the path as I make my journey towards wholeness.

I have been made aware, again, that I am not the person that I want to be.

No amount of wrestling, pushing, and grasping at my "perfect" image of self will gain me a single inch toward my goal. 

The truth is, I have spent my entire life running from this place of clarity. Running from the reality of who I am. The parts of me that hide in the shadows. The parts of me that nobody knows because they are buried in a facade of self-sufficiency. The parts of me that I never want you to see because if you saw – truly saw, you would (rightfully) turn and walk away in either disgust or fear.

During the past several years, I have come to realize new depths to my brokenness. I have come to the end of myself in ways I never dreamed possible. God only knows my desperate capacity to fall apart. And not to just fall apart, but to stay shattered in that hopeless place. To set up camp and to dwell there indefinitely. To sit in the ashes and dust unable to think, feel, or move. 

Sometimes I feel like a broken record to those around me when I share about my inadequacy. This isn’t the first time I have tried to put words to my flawed experience. But I’m not sharing this in an attempt for reassurance, pity, or judgment.

Here is what I want you to hear when I tell you my story:

At the end of myself, I discover the most beautiful thing. Something so wonderful, so brilliant, so breathtaking, that I struggle to assign words to it.

In the depths of this desperate state, there is Someone that sees me completely and loves me unconditionally.

In my shame, I find myself pursued and ultimately rescued by a furious, limitless, life-changing love.

God meets me.

Again and again and again.

I don’t need to be reassured that I am a good person. I don’t need to be told that my flaws are “not that bad.” I don’t need to be convinced that those broken parts of me do not exist. It doesn’t help. It only fuels my efforts to cover up and hide the complete picture of who I am.

Do you know what I need? I need to know that there is an infinitely good Being that is intimately aware of everything about me. Every detail. Every crack. Every festering wound. Every lie I believe about myself and the world around me.

To be known. Truly and deeply known AND loved.

This. This is what I need.

God never intended for me to live my life in the shadows of shame and despair. I was designed with incredible intentionality and purpose. I am not an accident or a mistake. I was created to be a masterpiece. But I am flawed.

God’s intention for humanity was not to condemn us in our imperfect (and often ugly) states. God’s intention has always been to bring us into the fullness of His incredible image, for His great glory.

He would not be a good God if He chose to look the other way in the face of depravity. He cannot and should not ignore the ugliness that humanity brings to the table again and again and again. In His justice, He must address what is wrong with us. And so, He did what we could never do. He became intimately acquainted with our humanity to solve our impossible dilemma.

Jesus paid the ultimate price that we accrued in our brokenness and sin.

So when I say that I am known intimately and loved unconditionally, it is not because the weight of my brokenness (intentional and unintentional sin) doesn’t matter. It is because Jesus already carried the burden that was too heavy for me.

I am free from Shame.

I cannot change the love that God has for me. He will never love me more or less than He does right now. When He looks at me, He sees the perfection of Jesus. He sees me as His beloved child.

No other human will ever fully know me, it’s impossible. But there will always be a God who fully knows me. And the most beautiful thing is that He loves me beyond what I can imagine.

There is a freedom, a peace, a joy, a safety (and so much more) found in the arms of Jesus.

And so, I discover again that the end of myself is not at all a hopeless place. It is where my desperate soul is met with the power of unconditional love. And I will become whole. Not because I have all the missing pieces, but because God meets my inadequacies with the fullness of Himself. I could never be the best version of myself without Him because I was designed to be enveloped in His incredible, perfect, life-giving reality.

I can let go of the fight to be good enough and rest in love - free from the shame, the despair, and the shadows.

Isn’t that the most beautiful thing?

It takes my breath away.

 Maybe you too know what it feels like to come face to face with your desperate capacity to fall apart. To miss the mark. To fail to be the person you want to be. 
Maybe you have never "hit rock bottom" or "come to the end" of yourself.
Either way, if you live with a nagging sense of shame and despair because of the parts of yourself you keep hidden in the shadows, I want you to know that there is an antidote. 

Lose the shame, it's killing you.
Be met by unconditional love and grace.
Come running into the arms of Jesus. 

To be found in this place, at the end of oneself, fully known and loved.

...It really is the most beautiful thing. 

"The One who knows me best

Is the One who loves me most"

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"For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him".

John 3:16-17

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God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God. Salvation is not a reward for the good things we have done, so none of us can boast about it. For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.

Ephesians 2:8-10

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 "Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God.

Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. Glory to him in the church and in Christ Jesus through all generations forever and ever! Amen."

Ephesians 3:17-21

the unwanted story.

 It's no secret that my year has been full of difficulty physically, mentally, and emotionally. Grief has become a familiar friend. The past several months have been full of processing as I have tried to make sense of my life through a haze of anger and tears. 

This week I found my heart practically screaming at God, "This isn't the story I wanted!"

I sat in the silence for a moment before I heard the soft reply:

This isn't your story, Joanna. 

I felt a mixture of overwhelm and relief. I was reminded that my purpose involves a much bigger story than just myself. 

I think pain often gives us tunnel vision. For example, when I broke my leg this summer I was unable to think about a single thing other than how much the pain was excruciating. I have found that this is also true emotionally. When we are wounded, our world shrinks. The purpose of this phenomenon is to bring our attention to something that needs tending, healing, and repairing. Unfortunately, it can cause us to lose sight of all the other complexities of life. 

Maybe you find yourself in a similar season. Is the pain all-consuming? Has grief tainted your life? Are you drowning in your own experience, struggle, or wound? You are not alone.

Several truths have become my anthem recently:

1) This is not my story. 

     I am part of God's story. That doesn't mean I dismiss my experience or feelings, it means that I was never designed to be alone. I was designed to live my life intertwined with the Holy Spirit and His plans for me. (Which....newsflash: are often NOT what I would have planned for myself). My soul thirsts for something greater than what I can produce on my own. I long to be part of something bigger. I am assigned specific gifts meant to advance God's redemptive story of love, kindness, justice, peace, and healing. That's the story that I want. 

2) When my faith is weak, I lean into the faith of others. 

     I am not an island. I need community to survive a season of intense struggle. When all I can see and feel is my pain, I need to allow those around me to remind me that there is more. I need to receive your prayers and reminders of truth. When I can't access trust in the goodness of God, I am desperate for you to believe it for me. When I don't feel like God loves me anymore, I can rest in His love residing in you. 

3) The content of my story does not decrease my value. 

     This is a hard truth for me to accept. I base so much of my value on my performance in life. When I am struggling or hurting or weak - I feel worthless. God has been reminding me that I am loved and valued regardless of my actions or experiences. It's true, this isn't the story I wanted. This year I have felt less valuable because of my wounds and needs. I keep having to return to the truth of my unconditional worth over and over again. If you can relate, I want you to know that regardless of what you have done or experienced or suffered, God loves you infinitely and you cannot change His mind. 

4) Life often requires a fight.

     In broken-leg-recovery-land, I am pushing my limits. It hurts and it's uncomfortable and my body doesn't want to do it. But this is a necessary stage in healing. The muscles around my ankle and leg have atrophied during the past few months and now I am demanding them to work again. In a way, I am fighting to regain strength - often gritting my teeth in frustration. I believe this is true in other areas too. Treating my depression requires me to get out of bed each day and choose activities that will help my brain. One of the ways I have engaged in the fight for my spiritual health is to speak the truth over myself even when I feel like collapsing into the lies. Sometimes I feel like I'm fighting tooth and nail to hold onto what matters most to me. 

5) There is healing found in worship.

     Offering worship to God while I am in pain feels like a sacrifice, but it's exactly what my soul needs. Reminding my soul of who God is is a powerful antidote and weapon against doubt, fear, and discouragement. Praise can be challenging, but we do it because He is worthy and we are bringing our soul into alignment with His glory. In a season of pain, it often feels like breaking up scar tissue in physical therapy. It's necessary, but it's not comfortable. 

6) There is authentic hope for the story's ending.

     Pain is an indicator that something is wrong...and there are a lot of things wrong with this world. Pain is a reminder that we were meant for something better. Something whole. Something perfect. As a Christian, I cling to the hope that there will be a day when all things are made right. All wounds will be healed. All pain and grief will cease. This truth is a comfort to me on the days that it feels like the darkness will last forever. 

I want to conclude by saying that it is okay to grieve the story that you wanted. It's okay
to feel disappointed, hurt, and even angry. The journey I am on is not one I ever would have chosen. I'm not thankful for my mental health struggles. I'm not thankful for my broken leg. I'm not thankful for pain in relationships. I'm not thankful to be missing work.

But I am thankful that I am not alone in this story. I can rest in the truth that my life is part of something bigger and more beautiful than I could ever produce on my own. And I can rest in the all-consuming love of God. 

And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ. - Philippians 1:6

For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. - Romans 8:38-39

For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. - Ephesians 2:10

...we who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek. Hebrews 6:18-20

waking up.

 I've been chipping away at writing this for several weeks. I've questioned whether or not I should share the following, but I was reminded this week of how important it is to know that we are not alone. So that's why I'm writing... in the hopes that this will encourage someone who can relate to the journey I have been on. Much love, Jo

As many of you already know, I am recovering from a broken leg. I had an appointment with my doctor and we discussed my pain level. It's been hurting more the past several days and I wanted to know why. "I feel like my leg is waking up. I'm feeling more." The doctor explained that it may be that I am experiencing the healing of the nerves in my leg, which were damaged in the break and the surgery. "When those nerve endings start to heal it can actually become more painful as they "wake up, even though it's a good thing."

I haven't been able to stop thinking about this since the appointment. It seems to be a picture of my life this year. I feel like I am waking up from so much that has fractured. 

I started the year preparing for a series of Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT} to address my longstanding struggle with my mental health. I put a lot of expectations on that treatment and how it was going to help me. Unfortunately, ECT was not effective for me and the side effects left me with serious short-term memory loss and cognitive dysfunction. I don't remember most of the months of February, March, and April. My struggle with cognitive functioning only made my depression worse and I had multiple hospitalizations in the following months. 

On top of that, for a while, I was overmedicated and prescribed meds that had significant negative side effects. 

I feel like someone scrambled my brain. In the past several months I have not felt like myself. I have not acted like myself. I look at my text messages, pictures, and emails and I don't recognize conversations I had. I don't recognize people that I met or hung out with during the past few months. 

It's such an unnerving feeling and difficult to explain. 

Some of the side effects of one medication were tremors, muscle weakness, and loss of balance. As a result of these, I was falling often. During my most recent fall, I dislocated and fractured my ankle and broke my leg in multiple places. I had to have surgery and it's been a tough recovery.

As I regain my mental coordination, I have to heal from my physical injury, which means I can't do anything weight-bearing for eight weeks.

So here I am, trying to pick up the pieces from this year as my cognition returns and my body heals. 

My life is suddenly very simple, as most of my time is spent in bed and I'm surviving mainly off of protein shakes and fruit snacks, oh - and pain meds. I haven't worn makeup in weeks, and my hair is so greasy I think it could stand up straight on its own. Sometimes my biggest accomplishment from the day is brushing my teeth. 

It's given me a lot of time to think. 

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And to ask "Where is God in all of this?" 

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I felt as if He is a million miles away for a long time. I have questioned what's my fault and what's His. I know much of what has happened was a natural consequence of my choices, or simply from having a body and brain that need healing. Why? I didn't ask for this. And I have fought so hard to gain freedom from my struggle with depression. I keep asking myself Why did everything happen the way that it did? It's not fair. This was going to be the year for healing! I was going to start running again, celebrate recovery, and find renewed purpose to love and be loved by the people I am privileged to have in my life. 

This year has challenged me more than I have ever experienced.

I wish I could say that I have endured with hope, courage, and faithfulness. But it's really only been about 50/50. Half the time I have been fighting for my healing and half the time I have been fighting to throw the towel in. 

I'm on crutches now. I graduated from the wheelchair. My arms are getting stronger as I rely on them for my mobility. I've always had better lower body strength. And this year I had plans for my legs to get stronger. But instead, it's my upper body that is gaining muscle. It feels like another picture of what is happening in my life and in my heart. I'm getting stronger, but not in the ways I had intended.

I have spent a lot of time with my family and it has been a gift. (Shout out to them for being my caregivers and feeding me and carrying my pillows from the bed to the couch every day)! Words can't express how thankful I am. 

I've been forced to slow down and appreciate the mundane, like a restful night, a shower, and a card game with friends. 

I'm thankful to have my cognition back and to be able to remember things again. To feel like myself.

To be "waking up" in my heart and in my relationship with a good God that has been faithful through all of it. Even though it's messy and uncomfortable and emotional. 

I didn't choose this journey. I didn't choose to struggle with my mental health or to break my leg fantastically. I didn't choose to feel distant in my relationship with God this year. But I am learning to accept that this is part of my story - His story. I know that there will be people that don't understand. That's ok. 

I'm writing this for those of you that have found yourself on a journey you didn't choose, or in a season you didn't want. Maybe you thought you would become strong in one way, and find yourself strengthening muscles you didn't know you had. Maybe the battle has stolen so much from you that you no longer feel like yourself. I see you. I'm here for you. You are not alone. 

Breaking my leg has been a terrible experience. But I'm also thankful for it because it's been restoring my soul. While I did not see God at work at the moment, looking back I see how He carried, cherished, and protected me. And as I lay in bed, elevating my leg, He is here with me now. 

Maybe this is the year for healing. Maybe it's just not what I expected (or how I expected). 

Maybe your healing isn't what you expected either.

Hang in there. It's still beautiful, friend.

believe (imago dei).

I'm going to endeavor to put words to some of the thoughts and feelings that have been swirling in my mind and heart for the past several years. 

Wish me luck.

As many of you know, I grew up in a very conservative and sheltered Christian environment. My dad was the faithful pastor of the small community church I routinely attended, along with all of my siblings. I lived and breathed ministry life; volunteering for the worship team, children's activities, and even mowing the lawn. I went on mission trips and volunteered at Bible camp nearly e
very summer. I was homeschooled and had little to no exposure to peers or adults that were not Christian until my late teens. 

Like most of you, there are elements of my childhood that I cherish and elements that I wish had been different. I love my family fiercely and deeply respect and value my parents and the choices they made, even though I may make some different choices if I have a family in the future. 

My journey as a young adult has been messy. There have been seasons where I wanted nothing to do with my family, nothing to do with God, and nothing to do with life. As I have been exposed to so many environments and people outside my original belief system I have wrestled with serious doubts, skepticism, bitterness, and honest questions regarding what I was taught about God, the world, humanity, and so much more. 

My struggle with a life threatening eating disorder and the ups and downs of misdiagnosed mental health issues have called into question so much of the "happy clappy" image of faith and the world that I internalized as a child. As a sensitive soul I have always cared deeply about all things alive and beautiful and hoped for the best and brightest outcomes. The transition to adulthood has left me grappling with the weight of pain, evil, hatred, trauma, and brokenness in "the real world." My heart has been so heavy as I have absorbed and processed the events of the past few years. 

I feel my soul has only recently found a reprieve, and I am savoring a newfound passion and hope for this complicated adult life. I am sharing my thoughts with you from a position of openness, love, and deep respect. I request that you would extend the same to me.

In my wrestling through what I believe (not my parents, not my churches, not my friends, not my colleagues, not my mentors) I have gained these understandings...

#1...that this is a process that we all face at some point in our lives. For many, it happens in early adulthood as one separates from family and place of origin. For most, the process is not a "one and done" experience. In fact, I believe that a healthy individual will continue to evaluate, challenge, and grow in their beliefs many times in a lifetime. 

#2 ...our perspectives will vary largely based on our past personal experiences, especially our knowledge and our resources. For example, some of the issues/topics I am passionate about include my faith, a healthy relationship with food/body, mental illness, sexual trauma, feminism, and foster care/adoption. I have formed/changed opinions and beliefs around these topics because I experienced something that challenged and/or impassioned me. 

#3... that challenging and reevaluating long-held beliefs and opinions takes great bravery and humility. Learning to listen with intentional openness and kindness towards someone or something you disagree with is not for the faint of heart. This process invites you to make the vulnerable statements of "I was wrong," "I don't know," and "I'm sorry."

We are living in a season of polarity and hostility among so many people groups and ideals. Social media feels like a minefield to me as I navigate relationships with family, friends, and acquaintances all across the spectrum of beliefs (politically, religiously, environmentally, relationally, etc). Humans are complicated. Even in the most tight knit groups and cultures you will find variance, small and large. One may agree with someone passionately regarding one issue and disagree vehemently regarding a different issue. 

Our multitude of opinions are based on our core beliefs including (but not limited to):

the world (organisms, history, science) 

religion (afterlife, deity, morals)

our humanity (value, purpose, relationships). 

The way you vote and take action politically, pursue a career, interact with other living beings (humans, animals plants), respond to emotions, and build your unique life will mirror what you believe to be true. I recommend taking time out of your busy (or stagnant) schedule to ponder, question, and name your core beliefs. Then ask yourself, "What do my actions and opinions say about my core beliefs? Do I need to make some changes to realign with what I actually believe to be true?"

Here's the thing. 

I'm a Christian. My faith is very important to me. I have wrestled with what I believe through the lens of my personal experiences and my core beliefs. I am still questioning, still challenging, still working out the details of what I believe in the complexity of life. I do not claim to have all the answers. I acknowledge that I could be wrong in many areas. After all, I am just one human in a world of billions attempting to work out what I believe. Who's to say that I nailed it? When I die I may find out that I have been wrong all along. Or maybe I won't find out anything because I will simply cease to exist. I honestly don't know with 100% certainty. But I do know what I believe given the hand I have been dealt and the information I have evaluated. Just like you. 

I know that we don't agree on everything. That's ok. In fact, it's healthy. We need a world of diversity in thoughts, experiences, and passions. Even if I believe your perspective is wrong, it can be healthy for both of us to rub shoulders as we wrestle it out for ourselves. We challenge and sharpen each other. If we are open, we can become wiser, kinder, and better informed. There is potential for great beauty within disagreement. 

There is also potential for great harm. When we approach each other from a place of pride, bitterness, and hostility the only thing we fuel is hate. We dehumanize each other. We replace dignity with violence. We do not learn or grow or mature, we harden our hearts and limit our ability to love. Now, I am not saying that there is never a time to break ties or set boundaries with someone (or a group of someone's) in order to maintain your integrity. Many issues do require us to take action, speak up, and sometimes fight for what we believe to be true. But the reason that we choose to engage in the fight or cut ties with someone are significant. For example, are we coming from a place of integrity and love, or are we desiring control and power?

As I pondered all of this during the past year I found myself drawn again and again to consider my beliefs surrounding humanity. Who are we? What is our purpose? What drives us to do the things we do? What is our value? What is our function? ...Is it all meaningless?

I look at the world around me and I feel the gravity of evil and pain. I see humans with no regard for kindness and love. I see senseless trauma. I see arrogance and immaturity. I see physical and emotional damage. I see (what I believe to be) a world horrifically broken by what Christians call "sin" or, what I also call "the choice to separate ourselves from God." I am deeply grieved by the reality of those who have given themselves over to evil, hatred, and harm. I am also horrified to discover these tendencies within myself. 

Under the weight of all of this I have found myself collapsing into the belief that humans (all humans) carry imago dei, the Image of God. That in all our complexity; our beauty and brokenness, our loving and fighting, we reflect fragments of a good God. The glory of our original design peeks through the cracks of our messy lives. Regardless of your origin or your culture or your family or your beliefs, I believe you have the imprint of a creative, intelligent, relational, loving being. I believe the concepts of morals, justice, virtue, selflessness, loyalty, kindness, order, and art are evidence of something greater than a theory of chaos and luck. 

As I hold this belief with open hands, I find myself growing in my capacity for love. I am humbled. I am slower to speak and eager to listen. While we may not agree on issues of importance, I still believe that you have immense dignity and value and that you are worthy of love and belonging.  This core belief has fueled my purpose and hope during a heavy and painful season. I have begun to shift my attention from what is wrong with humanity to cherishing the beauty I see in others. To recognizing the goodness, the joy, the creativity, and the unconditional value. 

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe there is no good God and no imago dei. But I believe that there is, and as a result of that belief I am discovering new levels of joy, freedom, life, hope, and purpose. I treasure the people in my life more. I cherish moments of connection, laughter, and love. 

I encourage you to ponder what you believe and the results of those beliefs in your own life. I'm not asking you to believe like I do or to change your opinions. I am asking if you would be willing to join me in considering this complex life we have been given, in the hopes that you too will find solace in the chaos and hostility swirling around you. 

With open hands and all my love,

Jo

here's to (twenty six).

here's to quiet mornings and fresh brewed coffee

to wet puppy kisses and soft clean fur

to deep conversations and playful banter

here's to silhouettes of mountain ranges

to homemade pasta and olive oil and parmesan

to crackling fires and fuzzy blankets

here's to hello's after it's-been-too-long's

to popcorn and late night movies

to steep hikes and breathtaking views

here's to belly-laughter and happy tears

to holiday spices and giant snowflakes

to clacking keyboards and brand new paintbrushes

here's to sunset beaches and sandy toes

to empty airports and used book stores

to sloppy kisses and children's games

here's to favorite playlists and horseback rides

to inside jokes and nicknames

to sore muscles and deep stretches

here's to road-trips and waterfalls

to much-needed hugs and encouraging words

to brunch and grapefruit mimosas 

here's to sparkles and streamers

to hot tubs and heaping bowls of ice cream

to new tattoos and old hoodies

here's to wisdom (from hard earned lessons)

to kindness, and joy, and connection

here's to twenty six.

can you see me?

 It's 3:02am and I should be sleeping, but I'm not.

I'm staring at the blank wall behind my bed and swallowing a wave of nausea as the projector in my head flips chaotically through my memories. I cringe. I hold my breath. I clench and unclench my fists.

I realized recently that there is a common thread throughout the memories that my brain chooses for the highlight reel. 

Can you see me?

It echoes between the walls of my soul. 

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be seen. To be noticed. To be known. But in a very specific way. I don't just want to be seen, I want to be admired. 

I want to be seen as brave, beautiful, strong, responsible, wise, competent, kind, diligent, special, and successful, to name a few. At the end of the day I want to be seen as good. Please tell me I'm not the only one. 

I want you to see me.

Yes, you. I'm talking to you, reader. 

Family, Friends, Coworkers, Distant relatives, Acquaintances, Christians, Atheists', Buddhists, Democrats, Republicans, Young, Old, Wise, Ignorant...etc.

I want you to see me.

Which is why I am awake, tossing and turning at an ungodly hour. I am thinking about all of the times my flaws have slipped through the cracks of my futile efforts to appear "good." Some memories boast of my ugliest mistakes while some simply announce that I "said the wrong thing" or "made the wrong face." 

Like a chameleon I want to adjust myself in whatever-which-way that will gain your approval. And failing to gain that approval feels devastating. There is an avalanche of evidence against my illusion of somehow pleasing everyone, which leaves me with lots of opportunities to cringe in the middle of the night as I rolodex through my past.

Can you see me?

That question seems to be tattooed on the inside of my ever loving eyelids. I so desperately want to be seen by you. And I want you to love what you see. Because then maybe, just maybe, you will love me. 

Oh. 

There it is.

My soul is constantly searching for the affirmation that I am enough. That who I am is worthy of love and acceptance and belonging. So I peer into the chasm of my history and carefully calculate how you see me, thinking that is where I will find the evidence of my true value. 

Do you see me as brave, beautiful, strong, responsible, wise, competent, kind, diligent, special, and successful? Do you see me as a failure, a burden, rude, selfish, broken, foolish, and flawed?

In reality, there's no way to know what you see when you look at me. I can't read your mind. If I could I would probably be surprised at how little you were actually thinking about me. And even if you judged me with the same scrutiny that I judge myself, your opinions would be varied. One action could be perceived as wise to you and extremely foolish to someone else. 

You are human, just like me. Flawed, beautiful, brave, and foolish. To ask you to define my value is unfair to us both...despite what my brain may tell me at o'dark thirty. 

Can you see me?

My soul was wired to ask that question - it's imbedded in my core. It drives me to my knees. And it's there that I find the same truth again and again. 

There is someone who sees me. One who has seen every single snapshot of my life; every failure, every victory, every secret and every public announcement. I believe that I am seen by a good God. And when He looks at me He doesn't see me the way I want to be seen. 

He sees Me. 

All of me. He sees the good, the bad, and the ugly. He sees the actions and the motives behind them. He sees the maturity and growth and the foolishness. He will never turn away in disgust. He tells me that I am loved. 

I am worthy of love and belonging not because I am without flaws, but because I am designed for love and belonging. The need to be seen and known and loved is no accident. It's woven into the fiber of my being. 

So when I find myself tossing and turning in the night, desperate for reassurance, I want to turn my gaze to the truth that I am seen by the One who loves me most. There is no façade, no fear, no excuses. I am just me. And no matter what you think about me, good or bad, it's ok. I can rest in my worth as a daughter of God, created with intentionality and purpose, loved extravagantly and unconditionally. 

As I finish writing this I am reminded that so often our actions are driven by unacknowledged and/or unmet needs. Chances are, there's a reoccurring theme behind that things that keep you awake at night too. What is it? What echoes off the walls of your soul?