hold me.

                                                

As I blow the dust off this keyboard I feel the ache in my chest.

Weary.

My heart is weary.

I could wait until I have a pretty bow to tie this up for you, but…that just wouldn’t be real. And if there is one thing I have been learning lately, it is that real human is exactly what I am.

And real human… well, human feels real hard right now.

Every human has a story. Some of you know pieces of mine.

The funny thing about sharing one’s own human story, is that the story isn’t over yet. There is no grand conclusion yet. There is no happy ending yet. There is no perfect resolution yet.

And for a major control freak and minor perfectionist, that’s an uncomfortable realization.

I feel like God dipped his quill in the ink and started writing on the pages of my heart again. Maybe He never stopped, and I just quit paying attention. Either way, the theme of the story shifted at some point into something that I know feels entirely too real and too raw to put into words.

…So, like a real genius who processes through writing, I’m taking a shot at it anyways.

Maybe I thought I had it figured out. Maybe I thought I knew it all. Maybe I tried too hard. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough. Maybe... it doesn’t matter anymore.

Because this is where I find myself whether I want to be here or not.

Reality just hurts sometimes.

Remember when you were little and you collided with another kid on the playing field and got the wind knocked out of you? Remember that feeling of sheer terror and helplessness as you stared blankly at the blue sky and thought to yourself “BREATHE!”

Yep.

I think life knocked the wind out of me. 

Except life is much bigger than the average 4^th grader and breathing becomes harder when the blow has reached your heart.  Can anyone relate?

Just when you thought you were catching your breath,
just when you thought you found traction,
just when you thought you were ready to get back in the ring to fight again,
another blow, and down you went.

I’ve learned a lot of valuable lessons down on the floor.

I have yet to figure this one out.

In the middle of the mess,
In the middle of the pain,
In the middle of the I-don’t-know,
and the not-finished-yet…

“I need you to hold me.”

Curled up in the fetal position in my car.

Trying to sleep on someone else’s couch.

Leaning my head against the bathroom wall.

Hold me.

Please don’t let me go! If I ever needed You, it’s now. Abba, where are you? What am I doing? What have I done?

Hold me.

My brain is tired and I can’t hold on anymore. I can’t make sense of this and I don’t care. I don’t even want to figure it out and we both know that’s not normal.

Hold me.

My hands are shaking. My head is pounding. The tears won’t come and then they won’t stop coming. I’m wide awake but so very tired.

It just hurts.

He’s there.

I can’t hear Him. I can’t see Him. I can’t even feel Him.

But He’s there.

He’s there as I lean my weary head back, picturing myself held against His chest.

My Lord promised that He would not let me go.

So this is where I will camp. This is where I will stay. This is where I will hide until the storm passes by.

Because, human? Well, that’s what I am. And to be human means that I desperately need to be held together by Someone greater than me.

Abba, I can’t hold it together, I need You to hold me.

There has been a whole lot of me trying to wrestle my way out of His arms so that I can do it on my own. There’s only one problem with that attempt:

I can’t do it on my own.

(It’s one of those floor life-lessons.)

When I finally cave,
when I finally let the walls start to crumble,
when I finally yield,
when I finally lower my boxing gloves…

I realize that it feels so good to be held.

That maybe, just maybe, being held is what this frightened soul needs more than anything else.

More than figuring it out. More than undoing the past. More than cleaning up the messes. More than fixing what is broken. More than regaining control. More than obtaining victory.
          Even more than mending the hurt.

Hold me.

I need You to hold me.

I can’t do this alone.

You designed this messy soul and know me inside and out. You understand even when I don’t.
You love me. You’re here. You care.

So, hold me tight against Your chest. Never let me go.

When I push you away, when I forget your Name, when I take a wrong turn, when my feelings ebb and flow...Abba, please hold me and don’t let me go.

Whisper in my ear, remind me who I am. Take me to that precious place where You’re my only love again. Wipe away the tears or leave them streaming down my cheeks. I don’t care either way as long as you hold me close.

I’ve chosen to trust You. Where else could I go?

I guess one beauty of the floor is that there’s nowhere left to fall…so, it’s a good place to rest.

I’m asking God to love on me here in a new way. I don’t want this human story to be wasted. Since I found myself here, I want to get to know Him more here. Not because I want to be here (I don’t), but because I just need to know Him more.

This chapter is requiring more of me than the last one did, and since there is none of me that has anything left to give, that means it’s requiring me to depend on more of HIM.

I don’t know what kind of page you’re on in your story right now. I haven’t found a title for mine yet, come to think of it. But if you can relate to any of this I just want to say: You’re not alone.

You need to know that you’re not alone.

I need to know that I’m not alone.

It’s not always going to feel this devastating and it’s not always going to feel this difficult. But maybe right now, it just hurts.

And while you wait for the storm to pass, whether it’s a week from now or 40 years down the road, will you join me? Will you invite Him to hold you right here? To love you right here? 

I hope you will.

Even as I stand with shaking hands, catching one breath at a time, trying to choose to let love win my heart, being held together by the same strong arms.

"I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand." 

- John 10:29

"For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together." 

- Colossians 1:16-17

...he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.” 

- Hebrews 13:5

"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

free.

“What does it look like to be truly free?”

 Truly free? Free from what?

Um…well, did you want it alphabetically or in order of importance?

My pride. My fear. My shame. My insecurities. My selfishness. My self-focus. My confusion. My weakness. My perfectionism. My analytical mind…

The list goes on and on and on and on and…well, you get the picture.

Sometimes I catch myself wishing to be free from…well, ME.

Here’s how I’m wired, and I hope someone can relate. I gravitate towards:

Rules.
Lists.
Structure.
Attainable Goals.
Black and White.
Right and Wrong.
Control.
Self-Achievement.  

Now, while the way that I am wired is not necessarily bad… it does open me up to a world of striving and self-berating when I fail to live up to my expectations.

So, it stands to reason that if there is an area of my life that I desperately want freedom, then I want to know the answer to the question:

“What does freedom look like?”

Puleeeeeease hand over the list and the red marker to check the boxes! I want freedom, and you can bet that I’m going to do everything I can to attain to it!

Also, I confess that I crave the feeling of standing on the mountaintop and declaring “Hello, world! I am free!” (while imagining the ways God will use my freedom to inspire others).

(If your arrogance detector didn’t start blinking just now, you might want to get it checked)

Can I be bluntly honest? Freedom is so not what I used to think it was.

See, I thought f-r-e-e-d-o-m

=

(brace yourself)

p-e-r-f-e-c-t-i-o-n.

Put the pieces together: A rule-oriented person striving for a perfect image of freedom from _____.

Does anyone else see a train-wreck coming?

Yeah, me too.

“Come here, child.”

He called me to His embrace. I laid my head on His chest and the waterworks began. Waves of pressure shook my shoulders as I wept in His arms. “I’m just so tired” was all I could say. Reaching the end of myself, I finally let Him hold me tight. His love began seeping through my weary walls of fear and self-protection.

“You’re trying to give Me something that I never asked of you.”

The truth sets me free. The truth is powerful and life giving. The truth compels me to fall to my knees in worship. And in a place of desperation, these are the truths that my striving-oriented soul needs to hear:

Truth #1: He loves me no matter what I do.

My identity is not secured by my performance.

Before I ever step onto the battlefield to gain freedom, I need to know with certainty that I belong to Him, and He loves me. No matter what. When the battle gets ugly and I get covered in mud, I need a safe place to anchor my heart. I am loved. If nothing about me changes, I will still remain loved completely, unconditionally, extravagantly. He loves me because it is who He is! Not because I have attained (or ever will attain) a level of love-ability.  My actions cannot shake my identity. 

Truth #2: The burden of obtaining freedom was never meant to rest on my shoulders.

I will never be able to obtain freedom by mustering my try-harder, do-better, personality

And I was never meant to. The cost of freedom is higher than I could ever pay. Within myself, I do not have the resources and strength to be anything other than a very messy, very broken, very bound human.  The expectations I shackle myself with are riddled with pride and self-effort, and they are death to me.

Truth #3: Freedom from sin is a beautiful, awesome, incredible gift made possible by Jesus Christ alone.

Freedom is possible.

Out of extravagant love for me, God did what I could not do for myself: He set me free. I choose to trust that Jesus won the victory once and for all, and I lay the weight of my hope on His shoulders, free from condemnation and rid of shame. The expectations for self-improvement fall limp at my feet and I can rejoice because I am free.

Hold up.

How can I rejoice in freedom when the chains feel so strong? How can I hold my head up when my face is covered with mud? How can I embrace freedom when I continue to feel bound?

These are the questions I have thrown into the night sky, when the clouds hide the stars and I don’t want to choose life again.

By faith.

“God, I don’t want to keep going. I’m tired. I’m discouraged. I want the very things that I know will hurt me. I don’t even want to be around You right now!”

By faith.

“I hate the way that I feel. I hate the way that I keep falling on my face. I hate the chains.”

By faith.

As long as I continue to look inside myself for the keys to freedom, I will remain captive to the things I am trying to conquer.

In the moments where victory is impossible…

I must know that the strength needed for victory doesn’t depend on me.

I’ve learned a lot about the power of choice in the past few years. I used to view myself as a victim to my feelings, unable to resist the urges to engage in destructive behavior. I remember when I realized for the first time that I was able to choose life when nearly everything in me was screaming death. It was life transforming.

I’m still learning to choose to believe the truth when my feelings disagree vehemently. There are times that I mentally note and blatantly ignore the power of choice. But, the hardest moments are the ones where I know in my head I have a choice…but I lack the power to make it.

3:16pm

I was driving home, my mind swirling with temptation and the various options. I was angry. I didn’t care much about “healthy,” “life-giving,” or “God honoring” solutions to the storm inside of me. I just wanted relief.

Choice.

The word flashed in my mind like a yellow traffic light that one doesn’t intend to heed.

The power of Choice.

The Power of choice.

The Power…

Freedom is real, and freedom is possible, but freedom is not about Me.

In the moments when I can’t get free, I don’t need to try harder, do better, and pull it together.

I need a Savior.

“God! I don’t know the path out right now! I don’t know what to do. I don’t see how freedom is possible. I can’t see my freedom, so I’m lifting my eyes to you. I choose to believe you. I believe that you are God. I believe that you are good. I believe that you are able. I believe that the power of Christ is at work in this fragile moment. I believe that You are Savior. Please, save me!”

This is the far-reaching beauty of the cross.

Jesus sets me free from condemnation in this moment…

…and He sets me free from the power of my sin in this moment.

The combination of freedom is almost more than I can swallow. It is that beautiful.

I am free to not do it perfectly, and I am free to truly experience victory.

Do you understand the weight of that statement? Do you understand how deeply this has refreshed me? Do you understand the reality of freedom?

We cannot suffer defeat if the victory belongs to Him.

When God shows Himself victorious, He really wins.

In the moments when I can’t get free, I am free to throw myself at the feet of grace, and in that place, encounter a Savior who is willing and able to give me the power to choose freedom over and over and over again. There is no formula for freedom, there is only faith in the salvation of my God.

Freedom is not what I thought it would be….It’s greater, deeper, richer, stronger.

Thank you, Jesus.

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” -John 8:36

-

 “Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.” – Romans 5:1-2

“So then, brothers, we are debtors, not to the flesh, to live according to the flesh. For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry, “Abba! Father!” – Romans 8:12-15

“What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us.” – Romans 8:31-34

“For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith. Who is it that overcomes the world except the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?” – 1 John 5:4-5

“His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.” -2 Peter 1:3-4

“And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. He disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in him.” -Colossians 2:13-15

confessions of a healing heart.

“Where are you, Joanna?”

It’s been echoing in the back of my mind a lot lately.

My walls only begin to crumble when I respond.

Where am I?

This is the part of my journey that I don’t want to admit. It’s the part where I want to give up. It’s the part where the season of healing and transformation and wholeness no longer feels raw and beautiful. It just aches. It’s the part where the pain that I keep dodging turns into a dull throb and my ambition becomes more about withdrawing in fear than being loved and loving courageously.

“Where are you, Joanna?”

I’ve been in that place where I have to admit again that I haven’t a clue, nor the control, to pull myself together and keep marching on.

And heaven knows it’s easier to post it on the web than to sit down with you and hold eye contact while I unburden my heart.

My middle name is Hope. It’s probably my favorite thing about myself. But, to be brutally honest, my hope has felt badly shaken recently. As a disclaimer, I don’t understand all the pieces, so this isn’t my polished explanation. Just an attempt at telling the honest story of what one human heart is experiencing in the hands of a good, good, Abba.

 God is gentle. I feel like that truth soaks deeper into my soul with every bend in the road as I journey with Him. In fact, He is gentler than anyone I have ever met. His gentleness is genuine. It’s about who He is, not who I am. It isn’t based on my performance, but rather on how receptive I am to it. And it is always, always, His desire.

He is gentle to peel back the layers one at a time. He is gentle to bandage the wounds until they are ready to be unbound. He is gentle to respond to my stubbornness with mercy. He is gentle to wrap my vulnerability in steadfast love.

And I am finding that He is especially gentle when I reach that point in the road where I sit down in the dirt and can’t go on. When I stop desperately racing down dead end paths, and cry out “God, I don’t know anymore!”

In that moment, He stoops down to hold me in His arms.

And without a fancy explanation, or a profound new revelation, I find exactly what I need (though it’s usually not what I thought I needed!).

Sometimes, it’s just the comfort of being with someone who is not frightened by my humanness. Sometimes, it’s the relief of unleashing my furious thoughts without being afraid of hurting someone’s feelings. Sometimes, it’s just finding a safe place to cry.

My tendency is to want to figure everything out.

No joke.

Everything.

Sometimes I daydream about what it would be like to just put my brain on snooze for a day or two. For those of you who know me…go ahead and laugh. Yes, I am well aware that I do all kinds of airheaded, ridiculous, what-were-you-thinking type things. But it’s not because I’m not thinking it’s because I’m trying to think about everything at once. I exist in the day to day in a near constant state of pondering anything and everything besides the current moment. Not the best way to live, I know, so I find myself daydreaming about what it would be like to live in the moment. Hence the question…

“Where are you, Joanna?”

“I’m struggling, Lord.”

Why is that so freakishly hard to admit? I don’t know. I just know it feels all kinds of uncomfortably vulnerable.

Pretending it away hasn’t been working for me. Has anyone else tried that? Please tell me I’m not the only one. When I start to pretend, I resist the very thing my soul is craving and run to something that not only aggravates my thirst, but damages me in the process.

Someone told me once that “God deals with reality.”

I like that.

I like that God doesn’t refuse to deal with my reality until it paints the picture of what “should be.”

He deals with reality as it is. He deals with who I am, not who I should be. He deals with what’s going on, not what I wish was going on.

And, He is gentle.

I remember one of the very first times I got painfully honest with God. I was so angry. I felt that I had done everything, and tried everything I knew to try in order to measure up for Him, and I the harder I tried the more increasingly I felt inadequate. Clearly, it was an exercise in intense frustration.

I finally blurted out what I hadn’t yet dared to voice: “What do you want from me? I don’t know! I don’t know what you want from me anymore!”

In the moment I finally admitted my insufficiency to figure it out and pull it together, He was gentle.

“Where are you, Joanna?”

“I don’t know.”

This is where the healing begins. It’s a little word called humility. It’s that place in the journey where you realize that you can’t do it. You just can’t. You are too tired, too weak, too tangled up, too broken…to go on.

In the moments that I reach the end of myself, I have three potential responses (in no particular order):

1)      Complete hopelessness and despair.

2)      Attempts to drown out reality with a plethora of ineffective coping behaviors.

3)      Crumbling at the feet of Jesus and whispering or shouting “Please help me, I need you.”

(I may try #1 and #2 a couple of times before I get to #3, but #3 is usually where the cycle stops)

I realized why my hope has been feeling so badly shaken. Somewhere along the path, I anchored pieces of it in the comfort of this world.

The unfortunate reality about placing your hope in the hands of a broken world, full of broken people and broken circumstances, is that you are sure to be disappointed.

Disappointment hurts.

And you know what else I’m realizing?

Disappointment still hurts at the feet of Jesus.

Whether it was someone’s harsh words during my work shift, a painful fact bubbling up from my past, or the subtle ache of loneliness at night, I cannot escape the reality.

Sometimes, it just hurts. And do you want to know what I’m learning? God can handle that. God can handle our reality when it just hurts. He is gentle. Just as the aches and pains of this world make their marks on hearts designed for eternity, they have also marked His heart. He is not unaware or unconcerned.

The truth that is so hard to swallow at this part in the journey, is that He doesn’t always make the pain go away. And He is not obligated, or required to make the pain go away in order for Him to remain a completely good, completely compassionate, and completely loving God.

What I have been so desperately running away from during this specific leg of my journey…is this very fact:

It still hurts.

It still hurts to be human. It still hurts to hear those words. It still hurts to be lonely. It still hurts to miss them. It still hurts to fall down. It still hurts to struggle.

No amount of soothing from this world (or a polished church service) can mask the reality of my pain….and no amount of demanding on my part will force God to eliminate my pain.

That may sound like a no-brainer on a good day, but in the middle of the mess…

That’s hard to swallow.

For whatever reason (or ten-million reasons), I have an incredibly difficult time sitting still to feel the pain of my sensitive heart. In fact, in the moment, it sounds more appealing to have tea with a starving lion than look my brokenness with brutal honesty.

Bear with me. My intention is not to look at life through a completely gloomy and cynical filter. There is hope! It’s real! But, if my hope is that I will feel better in this moment, I set myself up for painful disappointment. My hope must be in the presence and the person of a good God, who is not tainted by a broken world. In humility, I will find the embrace of His presence in the midst. Even if it still hurts.

God does not despise hurting hearts. His love is strong enough to envelope the deepest wounds…and tender enough to tend to the everyday scrapes.

“Joanna, where are you?”

“I’m hurting, God.”

“I love you.”

“It still hurts!”

“I’m still here.”

...So, where am I?

I’m learning to fall into His arms

when I don’t know where I am,

what to do,

how to fix it,

or why it still hurts.

I think I’m learning to let myself feel more human…and to honor Him as God. I can’t make myself more, and He sure won’t settle for less. I’m in process. And He is gentle.

One more thing before I put this keyboard to rest: Remember that angry, messy moment when I asked God what exactly He wanted from me? He was very clear in His response. As I drove home from work today, He reminded me of it again.

 “I want your heart.”

Nothing more. Nothing less. If I only give Him my good days, good feelings, and good performance, I have not given Him my heart. If I only give Him my tears and withhold my praise, I have not given Him my heart. It is the moments that I extend my mingled reality of pain and praise, struggle and victory, sorrow and hope, that my heart meets the embrace it was created to receive.

  

I don’t have it all figured out, but I do know this: He is worthy of my heart.

All of it.

As I learn His gentleness, the question “Where are you?” is starting to sound a lot less like His frustration with me and more like His invitation for the real Joanna come out of hiding and into the exposure of His marvelous light.

He is worthy of my entire being, poured out in honesty and humility. He is worthy of my love, my honor, my praise, my devotion. Even in the disappointment. Even in my imperfection. Even in the loneliness. Even in the unresolved issues. Even in the pain.

Even in this part of the journey.

“Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting!” -Psalm 139:23-24

“Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being, and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.” -Psalm 51:6

“Be strong and let your heart take courage, all you who wait for the Lord!” -Psalm 31:24

“For He will hide me in His shelter in the day of trouble; He will conceal me under the cover of His tent; He will lift me high upon a rock. And now my head shall be lifted up above all my enemies around me, and I will offer in His tent sacrifices with shouts of joy; I will sing and make melody to the Lord.” -Psalm 27:5-6

“I have said these things to you that in me you may have peace. In the world, you will have tribulation. But take heart, I have overcome the world.” – John 16:33

“Behold, we consider those blessed who remained steadfast. You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful.” – James 5:11

“Or do you suppose it is to no purpose that the scripture says, ‘He yearns jealously over the spirit that He has made to dwell in us”? But He gives more grace. Therefore it says, God opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil and he will flee from you. Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” – James 4:5-8

“For He has not despised or abhorred the affliction of the afflicted, and He has not hidden His face from Him, but has heard, when he cried to Him.” - Psalm 22:24

“In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith-more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire-may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have not seen Him, you love Him. Though you do not now see Him, you believe in Him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.” – 1 Peter 1:6-9

wash it away

hey, it’s me again.
head down, shoulders weary
to You, I’ve come stumbling

I’m pleading for help

Crying familiar tears

Dirtied by my choices and wrestling old fears

I’m dripping with the sweat
of struggling too long
I feel filthy with sin that wasn’t even mine

The mud drips from my brow

What I touch becomes tainted

and this wasn’t my intention

I wanted to come to You clean
But this messy soul is hard to scrub

The ugly stains run deep
I can't run away, but just beyond reach

I wish I could say that I came straight to You
When I first noticed dirt on my shoes
But the truth is, I stalled for time
In that lonely, muddy room

I thought I could wipe it off quickly
...Before anyone knew
But my attempts smeared the walls
A pattern I already knew

It seems like an eternity
Of exhausting my ideas
Straining for solutions
Anxiety, frustration, pain, and confusion

When I finally stop the frenzy to gaze in the mirror
My lofty perception shatters
I realize there’s something I can’t fix
Though I’ve always tried to be the “fixer”

Dirt can’t wash away dirt
Death can’t produce life
Weariness can’t muster strength
And fears collide with faith

So, Abba, here I am
Brought to my knees here in the mud
Cold, afraid, and shivering
Drenched in a murky flood

I wish I could erase the memories

I wish I could go back

I wish I had known then, what I painfully know now

I wish they had known better

I wish I had cried out to You sooner

I wish…

…But I can’t wish away the mud

Can you hear me?
Do you see me?
I’m begging you, please!
Wash it away now

I want to be clean

Wash it away now
So I can dance in the light
Let your love splash my face
May your joy be my delight

Wash it away now
Soak me in Your grace
Drops of mercy pouring down
Refresh me in Your embrace

Wash it away now
Why wait?
Cleanse me of the pain
Erase every tear-streak

I want to be clean

I come to You finally
I fall at Your feet
So please, Abba, forgive!
Wash this off of me!

When I’ve run out of words

I lift my eyes to Your face

My gaze is met with steadfast love

And You don’t look away

Wrapped up in Your arms
I am hidden in You
I hear you whisper,
“Be clean, I’ve already cleansed you”

Nail scarred hands brush the dirt
Truth pierces where I can’t reach
I remember Who You are
And what You’ve done for me

Standing before you
Peace washes over me
But the tears keep on flowing
Into muddy puddles at my feet

With eyes locked on Yours
I feel clean from head to toe
But just to make sure, I glance down,
To see what You’ve made new

Disappointment and despair!
And now I’m confused
I thought you said I was clean!
But there’s still mud on my shoes!

“My child, look up
Keep your eyes on Me
It’s by faith you’re made clean
And I’m not finished yet”

With that, You kiss my forehead
Wipe the tears from my cheeks
And though I feel vulnerable
I choose to trust love and receive

Then You stoop to wash my feet
And the surrender hurts my pride
But I’d rather have You
Than the others methods I’ve tried

For now, the task is done
Once again, You made me clean
“Don’t stray too far, My love
And next time, run back to Me”

I would promise to do better
To try harder; to stay clean
But we both know that won’t happen
After all, this is me

Head down, I turn to leave
“Wait, before you go,”
You tuck a towel in my grasp
“I have a special work for you.”

In disbelief, I question bluntly
“Are you kidding? Are you blind?
I was filthy, I was ugly!
How could you possibly choose me?”

“Look outside, can you see them?

Shivering, cold, afraid

Muddied by their choices

Hiding from the pain”

I look into their eyes
Like You, I can’t look away
My tears match their own
Heart quickened by familiar grief

Suddenly, waves of understanding
The shame, confusion, frustration
I’m not alone in the struggle
Like me, they need compassion

Years they wish to erase
Exhausted by failed attempts
Muddied walls everywhere
And no solution in sight

“Will you be my hands, daughter?

Will you stoop to wash their feet?

So they can learn to trust My love,

So they can dance in the light?”

Wash it away now

I’ve shared My heart with you

Instead of scoffing and criticizing

Share the grace I’ve given you

Wash it away now

Freely give what I have offered

Pour out mercy on their mess

Wrap them in My embrace

Because you know that muddy room,

Loving them will be painful

But, be patient with the stains

For every moment I have been patient with you 

Don’t forget Who I am

When you are tempted to give up

Your job is not to “fix it” 

But to pour out my love

Wash it away

Bathe with gentleness and patience

Let kindness be your response

To the mud on their face

I want to cleanse them too!

And when once again, your feet are muddied

And when you’ve chosen that room

When you feel filthy and ugly

Let them pour My love out on you

Rejoice, little one!
For there's no stain too deep

And no sin too ugly

No shame too strong

To wash it away

Now before the Feast of the Passover, when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray him, Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God,rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist. Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples' feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him. He came to Simon Peter, who said to him, “Lord, do you wash my feet?” Jesus answered him, “What I am doing you do not understand now, but afterward you will understand.” Peter said to him, “You shall never wash my feet.” Jesus answered him, “If I do not wash you, you have no share with me.” Simon Peter said to him, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” Jesus said to him, “The one who has bathed does not need to wash, except for his feet, but is completely clean. And you are clean, but not every one of you.” For he knew who was to betray him; that was why he said, “Not all of you are clean.”

When he had washed their feet and put on his outer garments and resumed his place, he said to them, “Do you understand what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them."

-John 13:1-17